


meet me at the bottom of the ocean

by Pale_Blue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Angst, EXPLICIT SELF HARM, Eating Disorders, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fantastic Racism, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized racism, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki is a mess, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, New Asgard, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Siblings, The Statesman, Thor is trying his best, Thor tries to be a good bro, and a lot of difficult conversations, basically a lot of hurt loki, but he gets it wrong sometimes, ignores infinity war, just a lot of angst in general, kinda ignores part of the canon, like a lot, loki is struggling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pale_Blue/pseuds/Pale_Blue
Summary: Thor and Loki make it to Midgard in one piece but even en route the problems begin to rear their ugly heads. There is something deeply wrong with Loki and Thor wants desperately to understand it before Loki is fully gone down the path of self-destruction he has made a firm start on. But Loki has never been someone to do things by halves and this time is no different.
Comments: 34
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't usually write things for the MCU universe. This is only my second fic for this fandom and I will freely admit that it is not a universe I know incredibly well. But I just love the complexity of the relationship between Thor and Loki and I can't seem to stop writing about it. So here we are.  
> This is also going to be my first longer fic. I fully intend to finish it and update regularly. I already have the next few chapters planned out so hopefully, if all goes well and life doesn't get in the way, I'll be updating at least semi regularly. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy (hopefully) and if there are any mistakes please let me know. And any feedback is always welcome!
> 
> Title is from the song Infinity by Jaymes Young

When the limited rooms on the Stateman had been divided up among what remained of Asgard’s depleted population, Thor had volunteered himself and Loki to share. He had wanted to set an example and Loki had not complained but Thor did not have the impression that he was particularly pleased with the arrangement either. He had, however, warned Thor to keep his things on ‘his side’. In the interest of keeping the peace, Thor had been diligent about doing so. There had been little trouble between them since Ragnarök and the beginning of their long journey to Midgard. Loki had been quiet, almost uncharacteristically so. But Thor barely had a second to worry about his brother between attempting to be everywhere at once for everyone. And trying to sort out some sort of course with Heimdall, who had become the default captain of the ship. Valkyrie had been very helpful in that regard as well, proving to have excellent inside knowledge of several trading posts and planets on which they could stop for supplies or to refuel.

He was grateful for her presence and her desire to help out a people she had not seen in several centuries. She was increasingly proving to be invaluable. But he missed Loki’s presence at the meetings, which he had yet to show up to. Thor had tried to broach the topic with him on several occasions but had been met only with stony silence. He had decided for the sake of maintaining peace between them to not push the matter. But he missed his brother’s presence nonetheless.

Something else they both did not speak about was the nightmares. Both Thor and Loki suffered them and on several occasions Thor had woken, soaked in sweat and gasping for air, to find Loki standing over him with concern written over his tired features, before he had muttered something about Thor disturbing him. Loki, on the other hand, barely seemed to sleep at all. Often when Thor woke in the night he would see Loki sitting awake, either with a book of some sort or lost in his thoughts, green eyes glinting in the darkness. On the rare occasions Thor saw him sleep, it was evident his rest was not peaceful. But where Thor screamed and thrashed, Loki went still. He would lie completely frozen beneath the blankets, eyes darting rapidly below his eyelids and tremors running sporadically through his thin frame. More than once Thor had thought he had been having some sort of fit and had shaken him awake, much to Loki’s annoyance.

Maybe they would have made it all the way to Midgard without speaking to each other about the seemingly insurmountable mountain of problems between them if Thor had not woken up at the wrong moment one night.

Thor was not sure what woke him. A noise perhaps, something in the ship shifting or someone walking down the hall. But whatever it was it jerked him awake, away from a confusing dream about Hela, Loki and Surtur teaming up to wreak unholy havoc on the Nine Realms. He turned instinctively to the other bed to ensure Loki was still there and not up to anything like he had been in his nightmare.

And then he froze because as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw that Loki’s face looked not quite the same as it usually did. Even in the shadows of their room, lit at night only by the strange glow of distant stars leaking in through their tiny circular window, he could see that the lines of Loki’s features had shifted, though it was still unmistakably his brother. His eyes were larger and set slightly further apart than they usually were, the nose smaller, the mouth wider and full of sharp teeth. The red eyes of a Jötunn glittered in his brother’s face, studying Thor for a reaction, for a sign of concealed revulsion or rejection. Thor fought an emotionless expression onto his face through the still lingering cloud of sleep, fought down the feeling of wrongness he felt when looking upon his brother in this foreign form. This is Loki, he reminded himself. This is still my brother. This is still Loki.

The Jötunn grinned a humourless grin, seeming to almost bare those too sharp teeth at him.

“I see it disgusts you to see me in this form,” Loki said with a malicious tone, red eyes never leaving Thor’s face, searching it, seeking out any cracks or weaknesses.

“It does not,” Thor replied. “I was merely surprised. You have not chosen to appear so in my presence before.” It was true. This was the first time he had fully seen his brother in his other (true?) form. Loki had not exactly advertised his heritage after finding out everything and breaking it apart with his desperate pain.

“I see the revulsion written plainly on your face, brother, if you are still willing to have a monster call you that,” Loki sneered, narrowed eyes still firmly fixed on Thor. But something did not seem right. The clawed hands were twisting in the sheets, though Loki stilled them when he saw Thor staring.

“There is no revulsion Loki. You are my brother no matter what form you take,” Thor said carefully, still trying to blink the gritty sleep from his eyes. He pushed himself slowly up until he was halfway to sitting, leaning on his elbow.

“And what if I were to walk out among your people with this face? Would you still claim me then?” Loki did not seem to be able to let the point go, pushing further and further, seeking some reaction Thor had no intention of giving him.

Thor stuck out his chin and looked Loki straight in the eyes, wanting him to see that he meant every word with his whole being. “I would.”

Loki laughed, but there was no humour in it. It sounded like glass breaking and it put Thor’s teeth on edge. It seemed wrong, too loud for the tension sitting raw and heavy between them.

“I do not believe you.”

“I am not ashamed for what you are. Nor am I afraid. This is still _you_ Loki, and I would not reject you over any form you take,” Thor insisted, wanting Loki to hear the truth in his words. Wanting him to take them in.

“It is so easy to claim so when you do not have to live with knowing that just below this skin lies a monster. It is always there and I can feel it taking from me,” Loki hissed back, blue hands once again twisting in the sheets. Thor had never seen a Jötunn seem nervous. It was a strange sight.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, confused by the shift of focus on Loki’s part. His thoughts seemed less organised than they usually were. In place of smooth transitions there were jerky corners and sharp edges, as though Loki's silver tongue had grown spines and his clever mind was careering through them.

“I ignored it long enough and now I switch forms every spare minute alone. It is an open wound I cannot let heal, that I must pick at and now it festers. It steals from who I am and takes it for itself.”

“But it is you Loki, there is only you. This version of you is not a different person, though you look a little different,” Thor said quickly. The feeling of wrongness was growing by the minute and he could not see where Loki was headed with this. He felt blinded, like trying to make out the world after staring too long into the sun. 

Loki did not seem to hear him, looking instead at the small window through which could be seen darkness, as if evaluating it as a route of escape. His hands were twisting faster and faster, and his breathes seemed shallower then they had even a few seconds ago. Thor shuffled slightly forward, wanting nothing more than to reach out and still his brother’s anxious hands, blue and clawed as they were.

Suddenly Loki stopped twitching his hands and shifted on the bed so he was facing more towards Thor. His eyes, glittering like the red gems Thor had seen on several occasions in the treasury on Asgard, were looking almost thoughtfully at Thor. Still looking at Thor, Loki summoned a small dagger into his hand, holding it almost excessively carefully, as though it might snap at one wrong movement.

“I wonder,” he almost whispered, eyes fixed on the little blade, turning it this way and that in his hand.

“What?” Thor asked, feeling thrown by the unexpected addition of the knife to the conversation and not liking it one bit. “What is it you wonder?”

Loki turned the knife in one fluid movement and traced the tip along his forearm, allowing the delicate blade to trace over the strange ridges on his skin until it reached his elbow. The skin dipped slightly under the pressure but did not break.

“If I were to pierce my skin would my blood be blue? Black? Would it be a monster’s blood that runs through my veins?” Loki wondered out loud, seemingly more to himself that to Thor. He was still utterly fixated on the knife and the rest of the room appeared to have ceased to matter for him.

Loki did not appear to notice the confused horror on Thor’s face as he continued to trace the knife tip over his arm, not yet piercing the skin but also not giving Thor any reason to doubt that he would do it. He licked his lip anxiously, tried to think of some way to distract Loki from his apparent desire to spill his own blood all over their floor.

“Loki…” he began, slow, cautious. The way one talks with a spooked horse or a frightened child.

“Is that even the name of this version of myself?” Loki wondered out loud, not looking up from the knife in his hand. “Odin gave me that name but only after he had shifted my form. My Aesir form is called Loki yes but this is not an Aesir.” He gestured to himself with the clawed hand holding the small knife. “This is not Loki. This is a stranger.”

“You are still Loki,” Thor insisted, concern spiking through his chest like the dagger in Loki’s clawed, blue hand. A thin coat of frost was beginning to appear on the leather wrapped around the handle, creeping up slowly towards the blade and the air itself seemed suddenly to be a few degrees colder.

“This is not Loki,” Loki repeated, gesturing again to himself. “This is a monster that hides beneath my Aesir skin and who would take Loki to be its own.”

The dagger glinted and Thor could feel the air chilling further.

“Do you not remember when you were younger? When we played together as small children in Mother’s gardens and in the palace?” he asked desperately, needing Loki to see that he was still himself, that he was still Loki. Needed to stop this delusion, feeling as though they were in a wooden boat being pulled towards a roaring waterfall and he had just seen that both the paddles had snapped. “You have those memories because you are still you. Were you a stranger you would no longer have them because you would not have experienced them. Loki was with me then, and Loki is with me now.”

“I remember but that was Loki. Loki played with you, Loki read books in the library and ate dinner with people claiming to be his family, but Loki is a lie. I am not Loki. I was hidden beneath the surface, banished because I am a monster, and none can accept a monster. A monster sits before you now and you are trying to claim it is the same as the Aesir child from your memories.”

“I am! Loki, stop this madness. You are you in both forms and nothing will ever change that.” Thor said, voice louder than he wanted it to be but the feeling of danger was only increasing, like seeing the crack in the ice a second too late.

“A Jötunn would not be permitted to play with the crown prince of Asgard, the precious golden son of Odin Allfather,” Loki raised his voice also, the consonants clipping oddly as he seemed to struggle to maintain his composure, to keep a lid on whatever convoluted thoughts were racing through his mind that Thor could not see.

“Please, Loki,” Thor pleaded, trying to sound calm but not able to take his eyes off the blade still clutched tightly in Loki’s hand.

Loki paused, looking at Thor. Then he lowered the blade slightly and Thor breathed out the breath he had not noticed he had been holding.

Then, faster than a striking snake, Loki plunged the knife into his forearm.

“Loki!” Thor shouted, leaping up from his bed and across the small distance between them to pull the knife from his brother’s fingers before pulling back with an agonised yelp as the extreme cold of Loki’s Jötunn skin burned his fingers. Then he gritted his teeth and wrapped a hand around each blue wrist and squeezed until Loki let the knife drop. Thor immediately released his hold on Loki and kicked the knife away behind him. It disappeared under his bed and he heard it hit the wall with a dull thud. Then he turned his attention briefly to his hands. His palms and fingers were are angry red, the burned skin shiny and already beginning to swell. The pain was breath-taking but he forced himself to ignore it and focus on Loki. Loki, who had just taken a knife to his arm right in front of Thor. Loki, who was still in Jötunn form and whom Thor could not touch without burning himself further.

Loki had not moved a muscle, his eyes fixed on the deep gash in his forearm which was leaking an alarming amount of blood. It was dripping onto his legs and onto the floor. Onto sheets which only seconds ago had still been white. He looked intrigued, fascinated, as though faced with a complex problem of some sort that enough careful consideration could solve.

“So it can be harmed,” he muttered, once again seeming to be speaking to himself rather than Thor in a way which was both disconcerting and alarming.

Thor grabbed a sheet off the bed behind him and ripped off a long strip, ignoring the way the pain from the action brought tears to his eyes. His hands throbbed unpleasantly in protest. There was blood on the floor beside Loki, and on the bed. And all over his arm.

Loki seemed to be almost in a trance, staring so closely at the blood on his arm that it turned Thor’s stomach. He was turning the injured limb this way and that, watching the dark blood pour down to his elbow.

“Loki,” Thor said, trying to get his attention. The whole thing didn’t feel real.

Then again, more loudly. “ _Loki!_ ”

Loki looked at him blankly and then seemed to notice Thor’s hands for the first time.

“You should bind those,” he said in a strangely hollow voice. Another trickle of blood began its path down his arm. “And learn not to touch monsters.”

“Give me your arm,” Thor said, urgently. There was so much blood.

“No!” Loki half shouted, shuffling back onto the bed to put more distance between Thor and himself.

“Norns Loki, you are bleeding!” Thor went to move closer but froze when Loki flinched at the movement. The room seemed somehow darker all of a sudden, almost as if it were pressing down on them, smothering them.

“Loki is not bleeding. The monster is bleeding.” Loki’s voice sounded strange, the pitch all wrong. Like shards of glass rubbing against one another.

“You are both Loki!”

“No, nothing that bleeds this strange blood could be Loki. Loki is Aesir and his blood is red,” Loki insisted, shaking his head aggressively from side to side.

“Give me your arm and cease this madness!”

Loki pulled his bleeding arm into his chest, cradling it the way one would a new-born child.

“Brother,” Thor tried again, trying to keep his own growing panic from his voice. “Please, you are hurt and I wish to bind your wound. Then we will fix this madness that plagues you.”

Loki shook his head harder, sharp clawed fingers digging into the wound and causing more blood to drip onto his sleep clothes. He did not even seem to notice the pain.

“Change back!” Thor ordered desperately. At least when Loki was in Aesir form he would be able to touch him, hold him down until the wound was bound and the flow of blood stemmed.

“No.” Loki pulled his legs up before him, shuffling even further back on the bed.

“Change back to your Aesir form!” Thor shouted, aware of how it would sound to Loki but pushing it away.

“I thought you said that the monster did not repulse you,” Loki answered, voice catching in a manner that almost sounded like a sob as he looked everywhere but Thor’s face.

“It does not but it clearly bothers you because none of this madness was present until you started switching around!”

“So it _does_ bother you,” Loki breathed, fingers digging into the wound in a desperate manner. Thor flinched at the sight of the blood on Loki’s fingers, at the bleeding hole in his brother’s arm that he was tearing at.

“It bothers me that when in this form you seem convinced of being a different person!” Thor answered, irritation and fear clouding his voice, his words. His very thoughts. He dug his fingers into his burned palms and used the pain to push down the encroaching panic.

“But I am.” Loki insisted hysterically. “There is Loki, and there is this repulsive being.”

“Loki,” Thor said desperately, edging forward again slightly. “Please, Loki!”

Loki shuffled back again, still clutching his injured arm tightly to his chest and scratching at the injured limb with his clawed fingers, opening more small wounds that added to the blood already flowing freely over his blue skin. Thor had never seen a Jötunn shuffle. He had never seen a Jötunn look as afraid as Loki did. He had never heard a Jötunn speak in such a hysterical fashion.

Because Loki did look afraid, far more afraid than Thor had first thought. He was swinging from fear to anger to blankness too rapidly, an uncontrolled fall that was just not Loki. Loki had always held his emotions in an iron grip until the bombshell of his adoption that had splintered everything into thousands of tiny pieces. His red eyes were darting from the window to the door and then back again, trying to locate a feasible exit.

“The monster will ever be there as I masquerade as Aesir, as I perform the role Odin gave me with the face of his making. I am not alone, I am not alone, _never alone_ ,” Loki babbled, the words tripping and tumbling over one another, increasing in volume, rushing into incoherency like water from a broken dam.

“Brother,” Thor said, as quietly and softly as he could. “Brother, please calm yourself.”

He shuffled forward once more, still crouched awkwardly and holding up his aching hands in an effort to appear non-threatening. Loki’s back hit the wall and he whimpered, wide red eyes whipping around the room wildly, madly.

“The monster will always be there, it will always hide beneath the Aesir skin like a parasite until it claims me and then there will be no more Loki, no more Loki. There will only be the monster and you will never call it Loki again because it _never was_!”

“Loki,” Thor said, trying to keep his voice soft as the situation escalated further and further into chaos. “I will always claim you as brother. Surely even in your madness you know this!”

He exhaled. Loki stared at him, a strange hunger mingling with the confusion and fear in those glittering red eyes.

“You will always be Loki,” he said gently. “It does not matter to me in which shape you appear and it never will. You will not vanish or be replaced or whatever else it is that you fear. You will _always_ be Loki.”

Loki looked at him warily. He uncurled his limbs slightly, finally removing his fingers from his injured arm and facing slightly more toward Thor. He was listening, even if every inch of his posture practically screamed of his desire to bolt.

“You would call this monster by the same name as the one you call your brother?” he asked, voice catching and halting, fear permeating every syllable. “You would look upon the face of a demon and call it family?”

“I would,” Thor said without any hesitation.

“Loki, what makes you you is not how you appear on the outside. It is inside you Loki, it is your love for mischief, your magic, your wonderful mind. Jötunn or not, you remain my brother.”

Loki seemed to digest this and for a second Thor thought he had succeeded in getting through to him. He dropped his hands down, reaching for the ripped piece of bed sheet which had fallen onto the floor beside him.

Then several things happened at once.

Loki suddenly bared his too sharp teeth and a short blade of ice appeared in his hand with a flash of blue and he threw himself at Thor, who barely managed to throw himself backward to prevent the blade from piercing his chest. He had barely opened his mouth to plead with Loki, had barely read the extent of the madness in the red eyes screwed up with anger and fear when the door behind them suddenly flew open, crashing into the wall behind it with a loud bang that seemed to jerk Loki out of his rage. He flung himself back, ice blade still clutched in his hand, glamour shifting his body back to his Aesir form but it was too late. Valkyrie was suddenly in the room and upon seeing Loki standing over Thor with a knife she swung a heavy pipe into the side of Loki’s head without hesitation, hard enough that he dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut onto the bloodied floor instantly. His eyes rolled back into his head, which banged sickeningly onto the floor by Thor’s foot and he lay still.

There was still blood trickling sluggishly from the hole in his arm.

“What the _hell_ is going on!?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this so far!

“What the _hell_ is going on!?” Valkyrie demanded, gaping at the unconscious and bleeding Loki at her feet and at Thor, who was pulling himself rather gracelessly to his feet and staring at her in horror.

“It’s…. complicated,” he offered, wincing as his hands throbbed from him putting his weight on them while trying to avoid an ice dagger to the chest. He had the strangest urge to pinch himself and check that this was not some nightmare.

“That’s not good enough,” Valkyrie said. “Why was Lackey a Jötunn and why was he apparently trying to kill you? And why is he covered in blood?”

She looked at Thor properly and frowned down at his hands, which he ignored.

“Help me get him onto the bed,” he said instead, gesturing to Loki’s still form.

“You’re hurt,” Valkyrie said, with a note of concern, finally putting down the piece of pipe she’d used to knock Loki unconscious. “Let me bind those first and then we can deal with him.”

“Just get him onto the bed, please,” Thor pleaded. “I am well.”

Valkyrie gave him a look that fell somewhere between disapproving and disbelieving. Thor tried not to squirm under it.

“Fine,” she sighed, reaching done to pick up Loki bridal style. His head lolled back in a manner that Thor found deeply disturbing. It looked as though it was not properly attached to his neck. Blood dripped from his injured arm to join the splatters and small puddles already staining their floor. Valkyrie dumped him somewhat gently onto the bed and, after a few seconds, put a cushion under his head.

Thor crouched back down beside the bed and carefully picked up Loki’s bloodied and injured arm, still steadfastly ignoring his throbbing palms and fingers. The knife wound was deep, and Loki had made it worse by digging his claws into it. There were also several shallower cuts nearer his wrist, from where he had scratched at his skin in blind panic. Thor felt slightly sick looking at them. He would have to clean the whole arm before even attempting to bind it up. He turned back to Valkyrie, who was hovering uncertainly behind him.

“Can you get some water?” he asked her softly.

Valkyrie sighed and shook her head before going into the small bathroom attached to the room he and Loki shared. Thor could hear her turning the tap on, the sound of water hitting glass. Everything still felt so surreal. Only the pain in his hands convinced him that this was no dream. Or nightmare. Valkyrie came out of the bathroom and put the full glass down on the floor beside him with more force than necessary, causing some to spill onto the floor. Then she sat down heavily beside Thor on the floor and peered more closely at Loki’s forearm.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, watching him dipping the torn piece of bed sheet into the glass and dabbing at the blood on Loki’s arm. The cloth immediately began leaking reddish water onto the sheets. It seemed that everything in their small room would be bloodstained before the night was over.

Thor sighed. He did not fully know the answer himself; it had all happened so quickly and unexpectedly.

“Loki’s mind is taken by some madness,” he half whispered, not sure how to describe what he had just seen and heard. “In the throes of this madness he turned his blade on himself.”

“Did it have anything to do with him being a frost giant, which, by the way, thanks for letting me know,” Valkyrie answered, watching Thor gently clean the deep hole that Loki had apparently gouged into his own forearm. It looked painful.

“It didn’t come up!” Thor protested. “And it is not for me to tell whomever I wish. Loki has struggled to accept that part of himself as long as he has known about it. I had hoped that he had made peace with it.”

Valkyrie winced. “It would seem not,” she said.

She got up and began tearing the ruined bed sheet into more strips for Thor to use. Standing as she was with her back to the dim light coming in through the open door, she was little more than a silhouette and Thor could not make out her face in the near darkness.

“Why did he try to kill you, in his so-called madness, if that is what it was?” she asked curiously.

Thor put down the bloodied cloth, turning over his brother’s thin arm to see how bad the damage was. It would heal quickly, thanks to the accelerated healing both he and Loki were blessed with, but it was the wounds on Loki’s mind that concerned Thor more. It was not the first time Loki had walked on the wrong side of self-destruction and self-hatred but never like this. Never in front of Thor.

“He was convinced that he was a stranger while in his Jötunn form. That he was not Loki but someone else entirely.”

The conviction with which Loki had dropped that particular bombshell was what had shocked Thor. They had not been words spoken from a place of panic, weakly constructed or thinly planned. Loki had truly believed what he had told Thor.

“Right,” Valkyrie said, in a tone that strongly suggested that she did not understand what Thor was trying to explain. That made two of them.

Just then Loki stirred slightly and they both froze. Thor privately hoped Loki would not wake until he had figured out what to say to him, what to do next. He needed to think about this, unravel the tangled threads of what Loki had told him and he knew he would not have the time to do so. Loki did not wake, however, and Thor managed to bind up Loki’s arm and check the bump on his head from Valkyrie’s blow with the pipe. It looked painful, a swollen lump the size of a small stone just above his ear, but it would heal quickly, much to Thor’s relief. After making sure Loki has no other injuries that he had concealed, Thor wrapped several strips of cloth around his own hands and let his head drop into them. He had no idea what to do next. Behind him he could hear Valkyrie putting the glass and the bloody cloth back into the bathroom to deal with later before coming back into the dark room. Upon seeing him she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Thor resisted the sudden urge to break down into tears.

“What time is it?” he asked instead, painfully aware that as soon as day broke, or whatever counted as day on this ship, he would be needed by too many people for too many things and Loki would be left alone. ‘Duty before family’ Odin had always said and Thor had never hated it more. Loki needed him and he would have to spend all morning trying to be a king and feeling like a young child wearing his father’s crown and playing pretend.

“Almost morning,” Valkyrie answered gently, understanding what Thor was really getting at. “You don’t want him to be alone I take it? In case he tries to do something stupid again?”

Thor nodded, worried eyes travelling over Loki’s motionless body. Something stupid. It seemed wrong to reduce it to that. Loki had fallen apart in front of him, had dug a knife into his arm and not even flinched.

There was still blood stains all over the floor.

He picked up one of the sodden strips of bed sheet and began to scrub at the closest one.

“I need to stay with him,” he whispered, glaring at the stain that wasn’t getting smaller or paler despite his best efforts. “I need to find and understand the root of this confusion.”

“I can stay,” Valkyrie offered, although she sounded reluctant. “I’ll need a drink first though.”

Thor imagined Loki waking and finding himself alone with a drunk Valkyrie and a room covered in bloodstains and promptly decided that it would be a recipe for certain disaster.

“No…. I will stay until he wakes and then I will see. Perhaps this madness will not follow him to this form.”

Thor knew that even as thin straws to clutch on went, this one was thin.

Valkyrie hummed something that could have been agreement, but she didn’t sound very convinced either.

“I cannot treat him as though I do not trust him,” Thor said. “Not after everything that’s happened.”

“But I also don’t think him being left here alone is the most sensible idea,” Valkyrie pointed out.

“Right,” Thor agreed, shuffling himself into a slightly more comfortable position. His left foot had lost all feeling several minute ago and the feeling of the blood returning to the numb limb was deeply unpleasant.

Just then Loki stirred again. His eyes opened halfway and he turned his head slightly before frowning slightly and putting a pale hand on the side of his head, as though unsure of how he had ended up in his bed with a massive bump above his ear. Then he opened his eyes fully and looked at Thor and Valkyrie. And Thor could see the exact moment realisation set in when something shuttered down in his brother’s eyes.

“Loki…” Thor began, reaching out a hand to put it on his brother’s shoulder, to do something to show him that nothing had changed between them despite whatever twisted maze his mind was lost in but Loki moved back slightly and Thor dropped his hand to rest uselessly on his thigh.

Loki started trying to push himself up onto his elbow, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he managed to force his features back into neutrality. He somehow looked even paler than he had a few minutes ago.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, I think I hit you pretty hard,” Valkyrie said quickly, frowning at Loki’s continued efforts to raise himself up from the bed.

Loki scowled at her and continued trying to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. He went to rest his weight on his injured left arm and almost collapsed back into a lying down position when the bandaged limb refused to take his weight. He pulled it closer to him, folding it against his chest.

“Loki, please, lie down for a little while longer. She speaks the truth,” Thor said, alarmed by his brother’s determination to get away from them. But not all that surprised, some mean voice in the back of his mind whispered, because this was what Loki did: hide his wounds until he could lick them alone in some hidden corner. Thor ignored it.

He reached out to push Loki gently back down onto the bed, but Loki once again shuffled from his reach before pulling himself up into a sitting position. His eyes looked glassy, probably from dizziness, and he was swaying slightly where he sat. Thor was pretty certain he had a concussion.

“Brother, this madness that has taken you, we will solve it together. Please do not shut me out this time,” Thor pleaded, wanting Loki to see that he did not want to harm him, that he only wanted to help. Wanted Loki to say something.

Loki gritted his teeth and stood up, swaying rather alarmingly and using the wall to steady himself on. Thor once again reached out to steady him but Loki hit his hand away with a surprising amount of strength, given that he was barely able to hold himself upright.

“Leave me be!” he hissed, before vanishing in a flare of green magic and Thor resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall Loki had only just been leaning against. How was it that he always messed up so badly with Loki?

“He doesn’t really strike me as the kind of guy who would be ready to discuss his breakdown and work it out, Thor, if I’m being completely honest. He’ll come round,” said Valkyrie, arms crossed over her chest as she regarded him with the same concern as before. She looked tired, Thor noticed suddenly. When had they all stopped sleeping? When had everyone around him started falling apart in their own way?

But he knew she was right. That did not mean that he was not worried. He had lost Loki’s trust again and this time he knew it would take longer than a few hours of Loki sulking somewhere on his own to deal with it. And if he was honest, he was still completely confused and worried by whatever madness Loki had been taken by. None of what he had said had made any sense and the words were turning lopsided circles in his head as he tried to slot them together in a way he could understand. He wanted it all to be a nightmare.

* * *

Later in the day he found Heimdall. He had not been able to find Loki although he had searched whenever he had had a minute in between trying to sort out some sort of temporary school for the remaining children and dealing with disputes over the living arrangements, which had been causing problems for weeks but was now becoming something which needed attention now and not later. The problem was that the ship had not been designed to hold the remains of a whole population. There was simply a shortage of rooms. And there was no getting around that fact no matter how much of a headache Thor gave himself attempting to do so.

His problem was that when Loki did not wish to be found, there was no finding him. And Loki could hide for a long time. An exceptionally long time. Heaving what felt like his hundredth sigh of the day he went to find his oldest friend. If anyone could find Loki, it was Heimdall.

Heimdall had become a sort of captain for the ship as well as a guard, keeping watch to make sure they were not at risk of attack. They were very vulnerable, and Thor was painfully aware that were there to be an attack it would be a struggle to defend the remains of his people. There were very few warriors on board. Most had been slaughtered by Hela. Others had still been in the city when Loki had unleashed Surtur. To survive the subsequent fire storm and explosion would have been impossible.

Heimdall regarded Thor thoughtfully when he approached him where he was standing at the edge of the large room near the front of the ship which was currently functioning as a sort of room-for-all-purposes. Several women were sitting in a group and sorting out the meagre food supplies they still had left in one corner, talking quietly to each other. In the other corner a group of children were being taught a traditional Asgardian dance by one of the men. It seemed he had been a musician on Asgard, or a dancer of some sort given the fluidity of his movements. His heel stomped out a beat and his hands clapped along, and several of the children were clapping more or less to the same beat as they whirled and turned around him. The laughter of the children was like music to Thor’s ears. He watched them for a few seconds before turning to Heimdall.

“Something has happened between you and your brother,” Heimdall stated, forgoing a greeting. He was still watching the dancing children, two of whom were now spinning each other, long hair flying around them and cheeks flushed with happiness and joy. “Something which has led you to worry for his safety.”

“You could say that,” Thor admitted. “Loki is struck by some madness which I do not understand and I fear he may be a danger to himself. But he hides himself from me so I cannot ensure he is safe.”

Heimdall trained his piercing gaze on him, amber eyes seeming to see straight through him. Thor held his gaze.

“He shields himself from me, as always. I cannot see him,” Heimdall said smoothly and quietly, only just audible over the laughter and sounds of small feet stomping on the metal ground.

Thor swore. Then he looked around to make sure no one had heard him. It would not do to be swearing front of children. They always remembered the words they should not.

“Is there no way to see him even though he is shielded?” he asked, trying not to seem too desperate and suspecting that he was failing.

“Loki’s magic is strong and he has been shielding himself from me for several centuries. If he does not wish me to see him then there is now way for me to do so,” Heimdall answered.

“I understand,” Thor said, wishing that there was some way to make sure Loki was not at this very moment doing anything harmful to himself. Or changing forms. Although according to what Loki had said he had been doing that since boarding the Statesman. The thought was not exactly comforting.

“I do not think Loki would harm himself too grievously,” Heimdall said. “He wishes to repair things with you and he did not seem to be in the mindset of one hellbent on self-destruction when I last spoke with him, though it is always difficult to tell with Loki.”

Thor recognised the attempt at reassurance and tried to take it on. But it felt hollow and did nothing to ease the sick feeling in his stomach.

“I fear he is no longer himself,” Thor said. It sounded like a confession even in his own ears. As if his brother’s illness was shameful secret that was too ugly to be uttered aloud.

“Then we must give him the space he so clearly desires,” Heimdall said. “He will show himself eventually.”

He turned back towards the dancing children who were now holding hands and jumping in a circle with the musician in the middle clapping out a rhythm that Thor suddenly recognised. It felt like an age ago that he had danced to the music in the golden hall of Asgard with his friends. He could recall clapping as enthusiastically as those around him, spinning and stomping beneath the shimmering ceiling with hundreds of others all dressed in their richest finery. There had been a full orchestra, he recalled, whole tables groaning under a great feast which had been days in the making. Enough mead to satisfy all of Asgard twice over. And Loki had been there with him, dark hair smoothed back and a laugh lighting up his features as he mimicked Thor’s admittedly uncoordinated movements. He remembered laughing, continuing to dance wildly and carelessly. Mother had worn red, a dozen jewels glinting at her throat every time she turned, far more gracefully than Thor ever could. It had been her birthday, maybe. He could not quite remember. The celebration had lasted until dawn and he had never wanted to it to end.

Then he blinked and the memory was gone.

There was no golden hall or riches or finery.

There was only a lone musician in a dark metal hall clapping his hands and a handful of children dressed in mismatched clothing jumping in a circle around him. But they were laughing and happy, he told himself. At least for the moment.

There was precious little to laugh over in the ship.

Thor hoped Heimdall was right about Loki. But he could not stop the worry gnawing a hole in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this so far!
> 
> I'm posting this a bit sooner than planned because I will heading back to my University city tomorrow and I might not be able to update next week, although I do hope to.

Loki successfully avoided Thor for the remainder of the journey to Midgard. Thor would see him out of the corner of his eye every now and then, a flash of black hair or the hem of a green cloak. But then he would turn and Loki would be gone. When it came to meals he showed up sporadically at best, eating quickly and sitting as far from Thor as he could manage in the not exactly large room currently serving as a makeshift dining hall. Thor did not know where he was sleeping, if he was sleeping at all, but since the Jötunn incident he had not slept in his bed as far as Thor could tell. He had returned to the room a few hours after Loki had vanished in a flash of green light and had found the bed neatly made and Loki’s books removed from the small shelf above the bed. That itself made it pretty clear to Thor that Loki had, for lack of a better term, moved out. It hurt worse than he thought it would. And worried him. Where his nights had once been spent worrying about rations or engine problems he now worried about Loki. Worried what he might he doing, what paths his devious madness might be leading his mind down. Worried that he was getting worse.

* * *

Rebuilding a shattered society was never going to be easy. And the building of a whole new city to house what was left of the Asgardian population was never going to be a walk in the park either. But Thor had naively not realised just how taxing the whole thing was going to be. After three days of trying to organise some sort of city plan for New Asgard to ensure it didn’t look like a child had tossed the houses carelessly onto the hillside, Thor felt like smashing his head repeatedly onto the table on which the alarmingly high stack of papers he was attempting to work through were balanced. When he had dreamed of being king as a young child, this had not been a part of it. Now he understood why his father had gone grey so quickly.

To make everything worse there was still no sign of Loki. He should really be helping shoulder the burden of all of it as prince and his brother but he was slippery as an eel and Thor had not succeeded in cornering him since their arrival on Midgard. And he was not sure that it would be a good idea to do so. So for now he was relying heavily on Valkyrie to help him and he was grateful that she was taking it in her stride. Heimdall had also been a help and Thor trusted his advice over all others. Even on matters such as the new street signs which one of the surviving artists had begun to work on. It seemed even that required his approval his king.

As the weeks turned into months, things finally started to fall into place. The more signs of progress that came to be seen the more people wanted to help and things were beginning to move much more swiftly. A house for Thor was the first to be finished, despite a lot of protesting on Thor’s behalf on the matter. It was a cottage on one of the hills that were dotted around the land they had been granted, made of grey stone with a dark brown roof. It was small, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and one large room which held a living room, kitchen and a table to dine at. Thor fell in love with it at once. It was as small as his bathing chamber in the palace on Asgard had been but somehow that no longer seemed to matter. Not when so much had been lost.

It was strange to walk around the small house and think of it as his. Well. His and Loki’s. He had decided that Loki would share with him. Loki had yet to make an appearance but Thor had had a bed put into one of the bedrooms in the house and designated it “Loki’s room” for when he did return. He was still optimistic that Heimdall’s prediction would come true and that Loki would come back of his own accord. He could only hope he was right to do so.

* * *

“I spoke to Loki yesterday,” Valkyrie said, swinging her legs and bouncing her feet off the cupboard below the kitchen worktop she was sitting on in an oddly rhythmic way. She was wearing a large sweater, a green overcoat and a scarf and there were little flecks of mud falling from her boots onto the floor with every kick. There was a mug of hot tea cradled in her hands, which were red from the cold. She had been dropping in more and more, mostly just for a few minutes to drink something warm. Thor was pretty sure she had a kitchen in her house but for some reason she seemed to prefer his. He didn’t mind, though he let her think he did.

“You did?” Thor said, hearing the surprise mingling with hope in his voice. It felt like every time he saw Loki he saw only his back as he vanished around some corner or into some doorway. And when he went around the same corner or through the same doorway, Loki was somehow no longer there and he was left wondering if he was seeing things. It put him on edge, left him always questioning, his mind chasing itself in circles like a dog with its tail.

“Yeah, this morning,” Valkyrie answered, taking another large gulp from her mug. “I saw him sitting down at the beach and snuck up on him.”

“Snuck up on him?” Thor repeated curiously. He could not recall the last time anyone had been successful in sneaking up on Loki. Or indeed if anyone ever had been.

“Yeah.”

She gave the cupboard another kick. Harder than the others. A shower of dried mud joined the pile already gathering on the floor.

Then she sighed.

“I don’t think he’s doing so great. As in, he looked like death warmed up.”

Thor looked at her searchingly, looking for more but Valkyrie was staring into her half empty mug of tea as if it held some sort of answer for the current predicament.

“And?” he pressed, needing to hear more, needing to make sure his brother was alright. Or, barring that, at least closer to alive than to dead.

“And I told him to stop being a dick.”

“ _What!?_ ”

Thor gaped at her.

“Well, he is being one,” she said, shrugging. “I told him he was being a dick with all this sneaking around when no one had done him any wrong. And that he was making you worry needlessly because you don’t hate him for being Jötunn and you haven’t changed your mind about him being your brother.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He listened, surprisingly. I was expecting him to click his fingers and disappear the second he saw me if I’m honest, but he listened.”

She raised her mug to her lips and poured the rest of the tea into her mouth, studiously avoiding eye contact with Thor while doing so.

Thor tried to squash down the bubble of hope rapidly rising in his throat. It was just a conversation. And just because Loki had apparently listened did not necessarily mean he had taken anything on board. Or would be putting in an appearance any time soon.

“Did he say anything?” he asked, sounding so hopeful that it made him feel a little ridiculous.

“He apologised, actually.”

“To you?” Thor asked incredulously. Loki was not exactly one for apologies. Especially not heartfelt ones on beaches to people who he was not close with. Even as a child Loki had rarely apologised, instead twisting his words around enough that it gave the impression of being an apology without actually being one. It had driven Odin and Frigga up the walls when Loki had been younger.

“Yeah,” Valkyrie said, putting her now empty mug down on the kitchen worktop beside her with a light clink. “He said he was sorry for vanishing and leaving me essentially with a burden that should have been his. It sounded like he meant it as well. It was like he was a whole different person if I’m honest. It was weird. I’ve never heard him sound so sincere.”

Thor felt a spiky chill race through him. A whole different person. Given Loki’s current state he wasn’t sure that that was a good thing.

Valkyrie hopped off the kitchen worktop in one smooth movement and started to head to the door, stamping her feet as she went and leaving more mud on the floor. Thor was too thrown by what she had told him to get annoyed about it.

“Oh, and he said he would come find you,” she added, as if she had only just remembered something so important.

“He did?”

Thor was sure that if Valkyrie were to poke him in the chest at that very moment he would fall straight over from shock. Loki was not usually the sort of person who gave warning before showing up anywhere. He had always preferred the element of surprise over common courtesy.

“Yeah. He didn’t say when though. But it’s a start, right?” she was watching him carefully, chewing her lip subtly.

“It is,” Thor agreed, still reeling from the shock of Loki apologising to Valkyrie. And from the fact he had even spoken to her instead of vanishing. Then he shook himself slightly and followed Valkyrie out the door, closing it carefully behind him.

A start. It was indeed.

He threw himself back into whatever needed his supervision or attention with renewed vigour. Outside, the clouds which had been hanging over the construction site which was New Asgard cleared slightly and for the first time in days a few rays of sunlight hit the half-built roofs and walls, making them seem less flimsy. Finally, he thought, he would be able to put this storm between Loki and himself to rest.

* * *

When Thor returned to his house that evening he was exhausted.

It was later than he would liked, given that he usually had to be out the house at some ridiculously early hour and he was looking forward to kicking off his boots and drinking something warm. He was incredibly grateful to the Midgardian territory of Norway for granting them land to rebuild their shattered lives on but warm it was not. He could only hope that the summers would be a little more forgiving, but he wasn’t holding onto too much hope in that regard.

It was dark inside the cottage and unpleasantly chilly. The door creaked when Thor opened it and the floorboards echoed the sound when he stepped inside. He shivered and turned on one of the lamps standing on a small table beside the couch, cold fingers having to fumble with the switch for a second in the darkness before the warm glow of the artificial light filled the small space. Then he crouched down in front of the fireplace and put several of the logs from the small pile he’d brought into the house that morning onto the blackened stone and attempted to light them with a match. His numb fingers betrayed him, the first match falling onto the stone and the tiny flame hissing out instantly. Thor tried again but the log he was trying to light refused to take to the flame. He huffed impatiently and tried a third time but only succeeded in accidently burning his finger, causing him to drop the offending match with a surprised yelp. Thor gave it an annoyed glare before staring morosely at the unlit logs.

“Would you like a hand with that?” a voice said quietly from behind him.

Thor jumped, hand reaching wildly for some sort of weapon and finding only a fire poker. He turned, brandishing it in a way which he hoped would appear at least somewhat menacing only to freeze when he saw who had spoken.

Because there, sat in a wooden chair pulled back into the shadows, which explained why Thor had not seen him, was Loki.

“Loki?” Thor asked, both out of confusion and disbelief. He lowered the poker and cursed himself for being so on edge, continuing to stare at his now no longer absent brother with something bordering on shock. He was tempted to throw something, to make sure that it was not simply another illusion, but decided against it.

Loki moved the chair forward slightly, the floor protesting the movement loudly, and shot a small spark of green light at the damp logs still sitting in the fireplace where Thor had left them. A fire roared instantly into life and Loki sat back in his chair. There was no satisfaction on his face.

Valkyrie had been right, Thor realised with a start. Loki did look like death warmed over, and that was the kind description. He had always been pale but now he looked positively grey and the bags under his eyes looked swollen and worryingly dark. He had lost weight and his arms looked breakable and his head too large on his thin neck. His hair was greasy, as if he hadn’t washed it for some time, and something about the way he was sitting was wrong. He seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible, thin hands wrapped loosely around his midsection and long legs tucked under the chair. Loki looked…smaller, somehow, almost shrunken. He had also resorted to Midgardian attire, as they all had, and was wearing dark trousers and a jumper that looked too large on his thinner frame. The Loki Thor knew was always immaculately presented. This Loki, who looked like he hadn’t washed or looked in a mirror for months, might as well have been a stranger.

And now he was looking at him, seeming as uncertain as Thor over how to start this conversation. Which for Loki was downright bizarre. Loki always knew what to say. Loki had a clever word for everything under the sun and an argument for everything else. But now he just looked lost.

Thor sat down on the sofa, making sure to keep a little distance so as not to put his brother needlessly on edge. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at his brother, still half convinced that it was just another illusion. But no illusion cast by Loki would look this sickly or frail.

“I must confess that I do not entirely know what to say,” Loki admitted, hands twitching nervously. His face was schooled into an expression of artificial calm but Thor recognised the anxiety in it nonetheless. Loki was one wrong word away from bolting.

“Are you well, brother?” he asked, feeling as lost for words as Loki claimed to be. He could hear the lamp beside him buzzing slightly.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Do you think me blind, Thor added silently. Do you think that I do not see how you suffer.

Loki did not answer, instead dropping his eyes back to stare at his knees.

“Loki, I know that this is troubling you. And I know you are embarrassed or scared by it, but I wish only to help. Does this madness still trouble you?”

Silence. A twitch in his right hand.

“Loki, please,” Thor pleaded.

Loki raise his green eyes to scan over Thor’s face, seeking something that Thor did not know. Then he nodded.

“I fear that I am fighting a losing battle,” he said tonelessly. “It grows stronger and stronger even as I weaken and soon I fear there will be nothing left.”

Thor’s heart sank faster than a rock thrown from a cliff into the waves churning below. He had been privately, foolishly, hoping that Loki would have resolved his problem with himself and what he was.

“So you’re still switching forms often?” Thor could not help but ask. Something in him just had to know, wanted to understand what he could not make any sense of.

“I cannot help it!” Loki half-shouted, body stiffening and hands twitching faster and faster. Compared to his quiet, emotionless words from earlier he might as well have screamed.

“And what of the using a knife on yourself?” Thor asked. He had to know, had to make sure that Loki was not still doing that because if he was then he did not now what to do. None of it made any sense.

Loki said nothing, drawing back and unclenching his shoulders. He inhaled shakily. Exhaled slowly. They were both volatile in this situation and Thor knew Loki recognised that. He did. And he hated how difficult things had become between them these past few years. 

Thor shuffled forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to maintain some sort of calm composure. The constant buzzing of the lamp was beginning to grate on him but he forced himself to ignore it.

“Thor, you know it is hard to control. And I have to hurt it to stop it growing too strong. It will consume me if I do not. I must keep it weak.”

There was a note of hysteria in Loki’s words, voice rising in pitch and words tumbling out faster and faster. Like when one pulled up a single wrong stone in a homemade dam and it all came falling down, the water rushing through in an unstoppable wave that drenched everything before it. His hands were fiddling with the hem of his jumper now, erratically pulling at loose threads in sharp and uncontrolled movements.

“Stop what?” Thor asked. His own words began to tumble, grow sharp edges. He fought for control. “The monster you spoke of? Loki, I do not understand!”

“The monster, Thor, the monster! It grows stronger and stronger so I must keep it weak.” Loki rocked forward, his jagged words doing little to clear the confusion Thor held.

“Is this why you have not been seen at meals in days?” Thor asked in horror. “Is this why you look as though you have not slept in several weeks?”

“I have to keep it weakened Thor!” Loki was shouting now, desperate, pained. The dam was gone and the water was crashing in.

“Explain it to me, Loki, all of it. I cannot follow your contorted thoughts!” Thor raised his voice, shouting as well despite everything in him screaming at him to stop, that this wasn’t helpful. That though it was the way their arguments had always ended, this time it had to be different. He could feel his hands trembling with rage and he clenched and unclenched them several time to try to stop it.

Loki pulled a shaking hand through his hair, breathes coming short and sounding painful. His temporary illusion of control and calm had completely vanished and had been replaced by the complete opposite. His eyes were flitting madly around the room, barely focussing on one thing before jumping to the next.

When he spoke his voice was quiet again but no less erratic.

“The monster within in me grows stronger. It will consume me if I do not keep it hidden, if I do not weaken it. It will consume me until all that remains is the monster. Yet I cannot stop.”

He sucked in a sharp breath that seemed to catch in his mouth, eyes still darting fitfully around the room.

“I cannot stop poking it with a stick, I cannot refrain from dropping the glamour. It is always there!”

He sounded hysterical, mad. His hands pulled harder at his jumper, loose threads falling onto the seat beside him. Thor got up, crouched in front of his brother and took his shaking hands in his, holding them tight.

“There is no monster Loki,” he pleaded. “It is only you here.”

“There is, there is and it is always there! It is here right now!” Loki gasped, eyes locked on Thor’s, beseeching, begging. His pupils were blown wide, almost entirely swallowing the green around them. So afraid, so afraid of whatever his mind had led him to believe that he could no longer question his own madness, Thor thought uneasily.

“There is no monster but the one in your mind,” he insisted, keeping his voice as steady as he was able.

Why would his brother not _see_?

“Yes! And it will not cease!” Loki insisted, his hands twitching in Thor’s. They were cold, he noticed for the first time.

“Loki, look at me,” Thor said, trying to keep Loki’s attention on himself and not on whatever his mind whispered to him.

Surprisingly, Loki complied, and Thor was horrified to see that his eyes looked shiny, as if he was barely holding back tears.

“Loki, there is nothing consuming you. There is nothing but this shadow on your mind which leads you to harm yourself and your thoughts to warp into unfamiliar shapes. Please, you must see this and return to me!”

“It speaks to me, Thor, every minute of every day it is here and I hear its voice in my thoughts. It will not cease! Its poisonous words sully my thoughts and I can no longer tell which are mine and which belong to it. It will consume every part of me!”

He was gripping Thor’s hands so tightly that it hurt, his fingernails digging into Thor’s palms painfully.

“Loki do you hear it now?” Thor asked desperately, the extent to which Loki’s madness seemed to have developed alarming him more with every second that passed.

Loki’s hands dug sharply into his fingers and for a second they felt almost like claws.

“I always hear it,” he whispered painfully. The little colour that had been left in his face had now well and truly fled. A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead down his temple. The shaking of his body looked painful, his breathes shuddering through his throat.

“What does it say?” Thor asked, stroking a thumb over his brother’s shaking fingers and ignoring the pain of them digging into his flesh. He felt powerless, Loki’s madness a tsunami that he could neither halt nor outrun.

“That it will win.”

“What does that mean?” he pressed. “What will it win?”

“There will be no more Loki, there will be only the monster!”

Loki inhaled shakily but it caught in this throat and became a sob, ripping through his too thin chest and Thor could not take it anymore. He pulled Loki down to him and held him tightly, ignoring the way Loki tried to pull away before allowing himself to collapse against him. Loki felt too light, too breakable in his arms and Thor pulled him closer as more desperate sobs shook his brother’s body.

“When did it start Loki?” he whispered into his brother’s dark hair. “When did it begin?”

Loki did not answer and Thor did not know if he even could. Or if he had even heard him.

“We will fix this Loki. Together. I promise you brother.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this and left kudos/comments, they're really appreciated and motivate me to keep going with this.

Thor did not know how long they sat tangled together awkwardly on his floor. He felt completely lost. Loki was convinced that he was turning into a Jötunn or some kind of monster and Thor did not know where to begin with showing him that this was not the case.

Loki’s ragged breathing had thankfully evened out somewhat and he was no longer shaking with awful, painful sobs like he had been. Outside it was dark and somehow Thor was grateful. This all seemed far too raw and twisted to be faced in the unforgiving light of day. In the distance a weak rumble of thunder was audible and small drops of rain spat from the skies onto the windows.

He shifted, clumsily pulling himself a little more upright and pulling Loki with him. The lamp in the corner of the room was flickering softly and he could hear a crackling from the fire behind him. The shadows in the room suddenly seemed larger, as though capable of containing every nightmare that had haunted Thor’s sleep as a child.

“Loki?” he asked softly, pushing his brother’s stringy hair back from his pale face. Loki was staring straight ahead blankly, as though withdrawn somehow from himself. His eyes were completely empty of the madness that had filled them earlier but there was no trace of anything else in them either, as though the tide had drawn back and left behind only bare sand.

Thor said his name again, slightly louder this time, and Loki shifted in his arms. He could feel Loki’s bones when he moved.

“Yes?” he asked softly, so softly that Thor could barely hear him. His voice sounded scratchy and painful.

“I think it would be best if you were to rest now. You have not done so in days and sleeplessness will not help,” Thor said.

Loki shook his head. The movement looked too jerky and rough for his current condition.

“I cannot, Thor. It takes control in the shadows of the night when I am less able to contain it.”

“Your Jötunn form?” Thor asked quietly, wishing with everything in him that Loki would just rest, that he would see how ill he appeared and sleep a few hours. That he would see that there was no monster save the one lurking in his mind.

“The glamour is unstable. When Odin died on that clifftop the glamour fell from my skin and I have to use my own magic to uphold it now. Just as his death unleashed his monstrous daughter from her tomb, it also laid bare the monster that always lay beneath the Aesir skin of the child he foolishly referred to as his son,” he said, just as quietly. “It slips inside at night and then I am gone.”

“Is that why you have not been sleeping?” Thor asked slowly. He heard the implication of Loki’s words, read the agonized confusion in them but did not confront it. This was not the time, not when Loki was still so vulnerable. Another argument would only make him flee and Thor desperately wanted him to stay.

“I cannot let it win,” Loki whispered as an answer. His hands had begun twitching again, ragged nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

Thor sighed. Loki was utterly convinced of his words, of his actions. It seemed to Thor that nothing he could say would change that. Not tonight.

“Then surely resting and eating would aid you in keeping the monster at bay?” he suggested cautiously.

“But I cannot let it take control while I rest,” Loki insisted a little more loudly. He moved away from Thor’s chest, sitting up slightly straighter and uncurling his legs. Thor heard the lightest thread of agitation running through his words, a ripple in a still pool of water, and noted it as a warning. But he could not help pushing just a bit further.

“Loki, you cannot stay awake forever,” he said, and felt the ripples growing larger even as he did so.

“No,” Loki agreed. “But I can resist a little while longer.”

Thor didn’t really know what to say to that. At least there was the suggestion there that at some point Loki would sleep.

“Will you not even try?” he asked. Begged. “At least for a few hours, Loki, just enough that you do not damage yourself further.”

Loki shook his head again. Then he started to pull himself to his feet, movements slow and awkward, as if his limbs were too heavy for him to move without great difficulty. Thor got up as well, wincing as the blood rushed back to his numb feet and legs and created a feeling of several thousand needles piercing his skin at once.

Once upright Loki swayed, and Thor reached out instinctively to grab his shoulder and stabilise him. He could feel the bones in his brother’s shoulders through his jumper. The howling wind outside shook the windowpanes and Thor suddenly wanted to hold Loki tightly, to ensure his bird thin body was not snatched away by the greedy fingers of some errant gust or breeze.

“Please, brother, you must rest,” he pleaded. He hated that he was begging but it no longer seemed to matter.

Loki shook his head resolutely, the hollows in his cheeks looking darker and deeper. He wouldn’t look at Thor, instead keeping his shadowed eyes fixed firmly on his feet.

“Then I will stay awake with you,” Thor said stubbornly.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Loki said tiredly, finally looking Thor in the eyes. He looked so exhausted and young that it sent a stabbing pain through Thor’s chest. “You have a kingdom to rebuild and a people to lead. It would not do for the newly crowned King of Asgard to exhaust himself staying awake with the monstrous Jötunn he foolishly claims as his family.”

Thor sighed. Loki’s words hurt more than he wanted to admit. He hated to think that Loki thought so little of him that he truly believed Thor would discard him over something such as this, even when he had told him several times that it changed nothing between them. At least not from his side. But he decided that it was a battle for another day.

“I will sit with you a little while longer,” he insisted. “Come, I will show you your room.”

Loki looked at him strangely.

“I do not have a room,” he said slowly, uncertainty tinging every vowel.

“You do,” Thor told him. “I thought that for now you would share with me, although of course that can be changed if you would prefer to live somewhere else.”

Loki looked at him carefully for several seconds, seeking out some trace of a concealed lie or ill will on his face. Thor stayed silent, hoping Loki would not take issue with his decision.

“It is fine,” he said finally, voice carefully emotionless.

“Then come,” Thor said, turning and heading towards the small hallway from which most of the rooms in the small cottage branched. The floor creaked beneath their feet, as if protesting their very steps.

Loki followed, footsteps uncertain and irregular, pausing every few seconds as though he were regaining his balance. Thor forced himself not to turn back and offer to help him. Loki would not accept his assistance, even now after all that had been said.

He pushed open the door to the room he had designated as Loki’s. It was small, as all the rooms in the house were, with a small single pane window in the wall facing the door. There were no curtains yet but Thor had managed to find some soft green blankets for Loki’s bed, which stood pushed against the wall on the left. He had put a large candle on the small wooden crate he had placed beside the bed to function as a makeshift nightstand along with a Midgardian book he thought Loki might enjoy. When he had been younger Loki had been known to read tirelessly through the night and Thor quietly hoped he would begin to do so again. There was a small rug on the wooden floor beside the bed and several perfectly round stones that Thor had gathered at the beach lined up on the windowsill. It looked bare, Thor realised suddenly, although his own room was no more decorated than this one. Compared to their rooms on Asgard it was embarrassingly small and plain.

But Loki did not seem to notice that the furniture was sparse and the walls bare. His gaze wandered around the small space, catching for a moment on the green blankets and the carefully arranged stones on the windowsill. He swallowed. Something Thor could not identify flickered across his pale face.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Though he did not say anything else, Thor could tell he was touched.

“I am glad you wish to stay here Loki,” Thor said quietly. The moment felt too fragile, as though a loud noise would shatter it into a thousand shards. “I have missed your company these past few weeks.”

Loki raised one eyebrow and gave him a look which seemed to contain confusion, hurt and something that almost looked like dulled happiness in unequal measure. In the dark room the shadows in his hollowed cheeks seemed deeper, darker, two holes in his colourless face.

“You are far too sentimental,” he said finally.

He stepped slowly into the room and sat down on the floor just beneath the window, resting his head back against the wall as though he no longer had the energy to hold it upright.

“You should rest, Thor,” he said. “Tomorrow will be another day of school building and city planning.”

There was no jest or bite to his words.

Thor regarded Loki carefully. He was difficult to read at the best of times and this was no exception.

“Will you at least try to rest?”

Loki looked at him with eyes still rimmed with red. They looked sore and still far too empty. Thor wanted to grab his face with both hands and peer deep into his eyes to ensure that his brother could still be seen in them somewhere.

“Would it allow you to rest easier if I were to say yes?” Loki asked, folding his white hands in his lap and looking up at his brother.

Thor exhaled heavily and leaned against the door frame. He regarded his brother sadly, feeling that he should say something, ask something. But when Thor reached for the words he found none there and he didn’t want to break their fragile peace with some thoughtless utterance.

So even though every nerve in his body was screaming at him to not leave Loki alone, to stay with him and ensure he slept, he knew he could not. Loki would not take well to him mothering him to any excess. He had to know that Thor trusted him. So Thor pushed himself off the doorframe and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Goodnight brother,” he said. It felt like giving up and he hated it.

A beat of silence.

“Good night Thor.”

The words were devoid of anything, but Thor accepted them anyway.

He closed the door gently behind him on the way out and tried to ignore the anxiety that immediately spiked through him. The thought of sleeping while Loki was possibly doing something damaging to himself was terrifying.

But he went to bed anyway, even if it took him several hours to find sleep. His thoughts were circling relentlessly, trying to think of some way to help Loki with his madness, trying to think of some way to convince him to sleep, to eat.

Outside the storm raged on, rain slashing against the window and the wind seeming determined to lift the roof of the cottage up into the angry clouds above. Thor could hear the waves crashing relentlessly against the dark cliffs that lay beyond New Asgard.

Tomorrow, he thought tiredly, turning over for what felt like the hundredth time. Tomorrow I will cook breakfast and he will eat something. And then we will take the next step together, however small it might be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who has read this little project, every time I see that anyone has left kudos it makes me so happy.  
> Enjoy this next chapter!

When Thor awoke the next morning the weak Autumn sun was bleeding sluggishly in through the window. He lay still for a second, watching the dust motes flit almost lazily through the cool air and blinking the sleep from his eyes. Then it all rushed back at once, like a wave crashing over the sand when the tide came rolling back in. The conversation he’d had with Loki the night before. Loki’s refusal to sleep but acceptance of the room which Thor had so carefully prepared for him. How fragile Loki had felt in his arms. How utterly helpless he felt in the face of Loki’s madness.

He slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, running a hand over his face before reaching for a shirt from the untidy stack beside his bed. He was having some difficulty firstly with doing his own laundry for the first time and, secondly, with finding the time to do so. But the shirt looked reasonably clean, so he pulled it over his head and ran a hand through his hair. It was finally beginning to grow longer again, and he was grateful, having found the short hair exceedingly difficult to get used to. He briefly contemplated taking a quick shower but decided against it in favour of making some breakfast for himself and for Loki.

The kitchen was as small as the rest of the cottage, but it did not bother him. Now that he knew how to navigate the various and multiple Midgardian kitchen technologies, Thor no longer felt as out of his depth in the kitchen, though he freely admitted to not being much of a cook. But some basic breakfast foods were well within his limited cooking capabilities. He pulled a paper bag of plain oats from one of the cupboards and some milk from the fridge before adding both to a small pot and placing it on the hob. Porridge had been a common breakfast in his and Loki’s shared childhood. Especially in the winter, when it would be served to them steaming in large bowls with a generous helping of honey and some fresh apple slices. Unfortunately, Thor had no honey. Until now, he had not had any need to find or purchase any. But he had some brown sugar, which he hoped would sweeten the porridge just as well, and he had an apple. As Thor slowly stirred the thickening mixture in the pot with a wooden spoon he thought fondly of the family meals of his childhood. He had always eaten quickly, which had led Frigga to often wonder if he was afraid his meal would be taken from him before he would have a chance to finish it. Loki had always eaten slowly, each bite seeming to take a whole age and a day. He recalled the way he’d fidgeted and complained at the breakfast table because Loki was taking too long, beating his feet impatiently against the table legs while Loki nibbled on unperturbed.

What he would give for Loki to eat now, even if he ate as slowly and as carefully as he always did.

Giving the porridge one last stir and noting that it had thickened enough, he left it in the pot but turned down the heat to make sure it would not burn. Then he went and knocked on Loki’s door.

There was no answer.

“Loki,” he said softly, knocking again. “I have made breakfast.”

Still nothing.

He cautiously pushed open the door, wincing when it creaked loudly in protest.

Loki sat slumped on the floor beneath the window, exactly where he had been sitting the night before when Thor had left his room. His head was hanging forward, chin resting on his chest and his dark hair hanging down around his face like a curtain. He was asleep.

Thor edged into the room cautiously before leaning down and giving Loki’s thin shoulder a gentle shake.

“Loki,” he repeated a little more loudly. Then he backed up a little, suspecting that Loki was likely to have a few knives concealed on his person and he had no desire to have a knife between his ribs or elsewhere so early in the morning.

Loki’s eyes opened slowly. The green in them looked dull with sleep and he blinked drowsily a few times. And then they widened, filling with the sort of unbridled fear that Thor had only ever seen in the eyes of frightened horses.

He was on his feet in an instant, swaying worryingly and ripping his sleeves back with urgency and examining his arms, his hands, his fingernails before running them roughly over his face. Only when he was sure he could feel no ridges on his face nor see any claws on his hand did he let his arms drop back down to his sides. Thor caught sight of several angry red marks on his pale forearms, as well as what looked like extensive scarring, before Loki’s too long sleeves dropped back down and concealed them again.

Loki pulled a shaky hand through his tangled hair, before seeming to properly notice Thor for the first time since he had woken up. He attempted to give him a weak smile, but it came out looking more like a pained grimace. Thor smiled back nonetheless and tried to ignore the prickling feeling of wrongness that came from seeing Loki like this. At least he had slept, he thought to himself. It was a start. A step in the right direction.

“Good morning brother,” he said, cringing silently at how fake the cheer in his voice sounded. “I have made breakfast, it is in the kitchen on – “

“How long did I sleep?” Loki interjected. He rubbed a pale hand over his face again and Thor could not tell if he was trying to get the sleep from his eyes or if he was reassuring himself that there truly were no ridges on his cheeks or forehead.

“What?” Thor asked, forehead wrinkling with confusion.

“How long was I asleep?” Loke repeated.

“I do not know Loki, I was asleep myself. But I am glad you were able to find some rest.”

Loki exhaled shakily. Ran a hand through his hair again.

“I should not have,” he said quietly.

Thor decided not to comment.

“Will you come eat?” he asked instead. “I have made porridge like we used to have as children. With apples.”

Loki seemed to want to decline. He hesitated, appeared to weigh up the offer with excessive care. Then, much to Thor’s surprise, he made a gesture that Thor should lead on to the kitchen.

* * *

In the kitchen Thor poured the porridge into two bowls and quickly chopped an apple into slices to put on top. He sprinkled the sugar over the steaming porridge and then placed both bowls on the table. Thor noted the way Loki was avoiding looking at the bowl with concern before filling two large glasses with water and placing them gently on the table. He took a large gulp from his, then picked up his spoon and made a start on his porridge. The sugar thankfully tasted fine with the porridge, although it was not quite the same as honey.

Thor glanced across the table at Loki, who had yet to so much as pick up his spoon. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle and Thor could tell he was fiddling with hem of his jumper again. In the morning light he looked worse than he had the night before, even after a night’s rest. Loki was so pale that Thor could see blue veins through the skin at his temples and his eyes looked bloodshot. His lips were dry and beginning to crack. He looked like an invalid. Or, as Valkyrie had so bluntly suggested, like a corpse.

With a start Thor realised that Loki was fading.

When he finally reached for the spoon his wrist looked like it might snap under its meagre weight.

Loki poked at the apple pieces on the porridge with no small amount of trepidation. He did not eat any.

Thor did not push him and instead focused on finishing his own breakfast. Only when he had done so and Loki still had yet to put so much as a single oat in his mouth did he decide to say something.

“It is not so bad brother, I have grown better at cooking these past few weeks,” he offered, trying his best to sound reassuring. He suspected he sounded a lot like Frigga on the many occasions she had had to coax her second child into eating while he was sick.

Loki gave him a distracted nod but still did not do more than push the apple pieces around in the oats. They smelled sweet.

“What is it that stops you?” Thor asked gently. He pushed his own bowl to the side so that he could rest his hands on the table in front of him.

Loki put the spoon back down.

“I have to keep it weakened,” he said impatiently, like a parent telling a child something they have already said a hundred times before. “I cannot let it grow any stronger.”

“But you are growing weaker also,” Thor said, trying not to let his concern bleed to heavily into his words.

“The monster must be weakened. That is all that matters.”

The logic was twisted. Distorted into something only Loki could understand. Doing so was like trying to find a dropped stone in murky and muddy water, Thor thought. Impossible at best.

“But you must stay strong,” Thor said. “You are sick, brother, you must eat.”

“I cannot,” Loki said. He still had not picked the spoon back up and it lay innocently on the table beside the fragrantly steaming bowl of porridge.

“Just one spoonful?” Thor all but begged. “A piece of apple and some oats. That is all I ask.”

Loki slowly picked up the spoon again. He seemed to be mulling Thor’s words over in his head. Evaluating the risk, weighing up the potential damage. Then he slowly and delicately scooped up a piece of apple.

Thor held his breath.

Loki raised the spoon to his mouth and put the apple piece in his mouth. Chewed slowly. Carefully. Swallowed. Avoided looking at Thor.

Thor exhaled.

“Now some oats,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

Loki resignedly scooped up a miniscule portion of oats and chewed them slowly. Swallowed them. Paused for a second. Then he put the spoon down.

Then suddenly he sprang up, throwing his chair back with a clatter and clapping a hand over his mouth, wide eyes darting wildly around the small room before staggering towards the kitchen. Thor realised what was happening a second too late, jumping up far too slowly and watching with horror as Loki threw up his meagre breakfast into the sink, shoulders heaving as he retched over and over.

Rushing over to him, Thor pulled Loki’s tangled hair back and quickly turned on the tap to wash away the vomit lest the smell make Loki sick again. Loki was gasping, eyes watering, embarrassment and fear clear on his face. He retched one last time, fingers gripping onto the edge of the worktop hard enough that they had turned white and bloodless. Then he turned and half fell, half lowered himself onto the kitchen floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them. His shaking hands came up to fist in his hair. His uneven breathing sounded too loud and painful. Thor turned off the tap and knelt down beside him. The kitchen tiles felt cool beneath his knees and he put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, wishing he could see what was happening inside his brother’s head.

“Water?” he asked gently. He could feel Loki shivering.

Loki nodded into his knees.

Thor stood up and fetched the glass from the table. He held it out to Loki, who took it with a shaking hand. He took a small sip before pulling himself up to spit into the sink. Then he collapsed back down onto the floor and took slow, measured sips, teeth clinking against the glass as tremors shook through his thin frame. He took another sip. Then another.

“Sorry,” he whispered, voice rasping slightly but sounding heavy in the silence.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Thor said.

Then he felt a wave of guilt crash through him.

“I should not have pushed you,” he said quietly.

Loki shook his head and made a jerky motion with his hand that suggested that Thor was not to blame. It did little to alleviate the guilt flooding through Thor like an uncontrollable tidal wave rushing through villages and towns, destroying everyone and everything in its path.

Thor pulled himself up and gathered the two bowls from the tables before placing them and the glasses beside the sink. Loki lowered his head back down to rest on his knees, putting the glass down on the floor and clawing his hands back into his hair. Thor could hear him taking deep breaths, clearly trying to calm himself back down again. He gave him a few minutes space while he cleaned the kitchen, putting Loki’s barely touched porridge in the fridge in case he would want it later. Then he went to his room and pulled out some clean clothes for Loki. He suspected Loki had some spare clothing hidden somewhere but decided to offer him some anyway.

He placed them down on the floor beside Loki and crouched down so that they were on the same level. Thor could hear the clock ticking behind him, an ever present and unrelenting reminder that he was not just a brother but also a king. He was supposed to look over the progress being made with the new school building today.

“Brother?” he asked.

Loki did not move from his curled-up position. Thor could see the bones of his spine through the skin on the back of his neck. It looked thin, almost papery. Fragile. Like the bones might come tearing through at the slightest movement.

“Loki, would you like to shower?” he asked gently. “It might help you feel a bit more like yourself.”

Loki nodded into his knees but did not raise his head nor take his hands from his hair.

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall. There are several towels, just take any of them. There should be hot water, if not then just let the water run for a little and then more should come.”

Thor felt helpless. Like he was paddling water out of a rapidly sinking boat with a teaspoon. Not enough. Not even close.

Loki nodded again.

“Ok,” Thor said. Clenched and unclenched his hands helplessly.

“I have to go Loki, though I do not wish to leave you alone,” he said. “But you are welcome to remain here, it is also your home now. I will be returning around midday and then perhaps we can eat another meal together. Or try to.”

He stood, hands clenching and unclenching anxiously at his sides. Loki had still not moved a muscle.

Then he twitched slightly. Shuffled his feet and tightened the hold his hands had in his hair in a way that looked painful.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, and Thor had to strain to hear it.

“It is no trouble, brother.”

He pulled on his boots and overcoat before heading out the door, casting one last concerned look over at Loki’s hunched over form.

* * *

He met Valkyrie at the construction site of the new school. There was a sturdy looking wooden frame in place and today’s task was the beginning of the construction of the outer walls. Thor was supposed to meet the man overseeing the construction, but he was a little early. Valkyrie gave him a strange look when he came to sit beside her on one of the large, felled trees which would today be turned into planks.

“Rough night?” she asked, a slight smirk on her face but the concern evident in her voice. She was tapping her right foot against her left. Thor noticed that she had red rubber boots on and wondered where she had purchased them. He could remember Jane had once owned a very similar pair.

“You could say that,” he said, pulling a hand through his hair when the wind pulled at it with mischievous fingers.

“He came to see you, didn’t he?” she asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Loki?”

Thor nodded.

“Stayed actually. He seems to be alright with sharing with me, which is surprising.”

“And?” Valkyrie asked.

“And what?” Thor said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. It did not help, the log remained a damp and rather uncomfortable place to sit.

“Well I’m guessing it went badly based on the fact he is still not here helping,” she said bluntly.

“Loki is…not well,” Thor said slowly. “I left him at the house but everything in me is screaming that I was not right to do so.”

“He’s still not over his Jötunn problem then?”

“Not exactly.”

Valkyrie whistled. Then she crossed her arms across her chest and seemed to consider what Thor had told her.

“Is he not overreacting a bit to all this?” she asked thoughtfully, looking up at the sky above their heads. Other than a few wispy clouds it was mainly a clear blue. “I mean I think it’s kind of cool that he’s Jötunn. I’ve heard that they can be pretty powerful. And not feeling the cold must be a gift right now.”

Thor stared at her.

“He was told by my father that he was Aesir his whole life,” he said. “I think the truth was hard for him to swallow. And Loki has never exactly been good a processing anything in a healthy manner. But this is bad, even for him.”

“He’s still convinced he’s two people then?” Valkyrie asked.

“Yes, and he is refusing to eat or sleep in case doing so makes the Jötunn part of him strong. Or the monster, as he calls it. He threw up after eating little more than a mouthful this morning and I do not know if it is because he has not eaten in some time or because he is so lost in his own madness that he truly believes a single bite of apple will make this monster in his head spring forth.”

Valkyrie did not say anything, but she winced and gave him a look which could be interpreted as sympathetic.

Thor looked out over the little town which was slowly beginning to take shape. There were not yet any roads, only dirt tracks from where people had walked over the same path again and again until the grass had been word away by hundreds of feet but some of the children had begun to put stones from the beach around the edges of the ‘road’. Yesterday someone had suggested that someone give them buckets of paint and let them paint designs on the stones and Thor was determined to make that happen. The sooner New Asgard looked like something resembling a home the better. For everyone.

He would return to the house at midday and until then all he could hope was that Loki would shower and stay out of trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who has read/ commented/ left kudos, they are all highly appreciated. This chapter is one I'm not as sure about, it didn't seem to come together as well as I was hoping it would. I might edit some parts before I post the next chapter.

Thor almost knocked on the already weathered looking cottage door before remembering that it was, in fact, his house and he didn’t have to knock on the door of the house he lived in before entering. He was allowed to simply walk in. Though he was incredibly thankful that Loki had decided to stay and live with him, sharing the space with someone else after several weeks alone would require some adjustment.

He really hoped Loki hadn’t left.

He really hoped he had managed to shower without having some sort of emotional breakdown.

And he really, really hoped that he had eaten something.

The house was silent. Too silent. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest.

“Loki?” he called into the stillness, straining to hear any sign of his brother. But there was nothing. Thor hated that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. Had Loki been sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, or been perched on the table with a book, then he would have been surprised. Those times were long gone and Thor now expected his brother to be absent rather than present.

He cautiously cracked open the door to Loki’s room. There was no trace of him. The bed had been neatly made and the clothes, the ones he had been wearing the night before, had been carefully folded and stacked in the crate beside the bed.

But there was no sign of Loki himself.

He tried the bathroom next. It was also empty but there was a second towel hung beside the Thor’s own on the back of the door. At least he had managed to shower, Thor thought to himself. At this point that was enough. He also checked his own room despite there being no plausible reason why Loki would be in his room. They were long past the age were Loki had crawled into Thor’s bed after every nightmare, feet icy and tear tracks on his cheeks, needing Thor to reassure him that he was safe from the monsters that haunted his rest.

The blankets on the sofa in the living room had also been folded neatly and draped over one of the arms. It was somehow so reminiscent of the Loki he had once known that Thor could not help but smile softly to himself. Loki had driven him up the wall when they had still shared a room with his obsessiveness over everything being tidy, everything being folded neatly and sitting equally spaced. Thor had never been one for tidiness, preferring his surroundings to exist in a sort of organised chaos only he could make sense of, but Loki had always insisted on order. Even as a very young child he would put all his toys back to exactly the shelf where he had found them, would always be rearranging his books into some sort of system that made sense only to him. Everything in its place. And woe betide anyone who put so much as a bookmark out of order. There would be tantrums, screaming, water turned into snakes and treasured possessions mysteriously vanishing only to reappear in rather unusual places. Once he had even shrunk down Thor’s favourite gold helmet to the size that a child would wear after Thor had accidently knocked over a book stack and restacked the heavy tomes in the wrong order. He suspected it had been a comment on his intelligence, but he had never asked.

But there was still no sign of his missing little brother.

Thor went back into the kitchen and checked the fridge. The porridge bowl was still innocently sitting exactly where he had left it a few hours ago. None of the rest of the food had been touched either, which meant that unless Loki had found food elsewhere, he had not yet eaten today. Thor picked up an apple from the bowl beside the fridge and walked back to Loki’s room. After a moment of consideration, he placed it carefully next to the book on the crate beside Loki’s bed.

Sentiment.

Loki would be absolutely disgusted.

Then he felt a little at loss over what to do next. Eat lunch, he assumed, but he had been anticipating Loki’s presence and now eating alone in the quiet cottage seemed unappealing and a bit lonely. He looked outside, sceptically weighing up the clouds and the likelihood of a downpour. Making up his mind, he grabbed a green apple and a chunk of bread, then headed out the door.

* * *

He had first walked on the beach alone early one morning when his sleep had been troubled during the first week on Midgard, as it so very often was. The rhythmic crashing of the waves had been calming, washing over his nightmare sweat soaked skin and seeming to cleanse his jolted thoughts. He had found the solitude welcoming after many months trapped in a ship with far too many people in far too little space. The sand had been cool to touch and standing there, staring out at the water, he had felt the weight on his shoulders lessen just a little for the first time in weeks and it had felt as though he could breathe again.

Following that morning he had tried to walk down to the beach at least once every week and allow the ocean to soothe the worries pulsing through his head. It was also where he had picked up the round stones that were scattered all around the small cottage. There were shells as well, but Thor preferred the smooth weight of the stones. They were less breakable.

They didn’t shatter apart if one accidently dropped them.

The path leading down to the beach was steep and required him to hold onto the side of the cliff carefully at several points. The rocks were jagged in places, covered in moss in others. When they were wet it could be treacherous trip to make. On the other side a steep drop onto the rocks and grey sand awaited. One wrong step could be fatal. Not many people used it as a result, preferring the much more accessible path from the docks. That was why Thor preferred it.

The beach was empty when he arrived down at the sand. He bent down and took off his heavy boots, allowing the fine grains of grey sand to run between his toes despite the cold. Thor walked a few paces then dropped his shoes carelessly into the sand and lowered himself down beside them. Biting a chunk out of his apple, he turned his gaze to the ocean and allowed the saltiness of the breeze to ruffle his hair forward and into his eyes. He took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly.

But as he stared out over the dark water his eyes caught on something. There was a dark shape in the water. At first glance he took it for a seal but then it turned and there was a flash of something white. Thor strained his eyes, tried to look more closely but was unable to make out more from such a distance. He took off his scarf and put his lunch down on it before walking down to the waters edge, keeping his gaze fixed on the dark shape in the water. The wet sand pulled greedily at his bare toes. The mysterious shape was a fair distance from the beach, where the waves were larger and not yet crowned by white crests as they were closer to the shore. As he walked a few metres along the beach to try and get a better vantage point, he caught sight of something sitting in the sand by a dead log that had been washed up by the tide.

As Thor got closer he saw it was a carefully folded bundle of clothes. And when he reached them, he recognised instantly who they belonged to.

With an icy jolt of fear he looked back at the dark shape far out in the water. He could remember one of the local fishermen telling him that the currents further out from the cliffs could be dangerous, strong, could pull even a competent swimmer down into the frigid depths. There had been several accidents in the past. A child had drowned the previous summer. An old man the year before.

“Loki!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, hoping it would reach his little brother. The wind whipped his hair around his cheeks, tugged curiously at his jacket.

The shape stopped moving and Thor again saw the flash of white he now knew must be his brother’s face. He waved his arms wildly, before shouting again.

His brother changed direction in the water and started swimming back towards the shore. Thor fought down the treacherous annoyance and irritation that was beginning to rise up in his chest and threatening to overwhelm him. It would not benefit either of them to argue now, even if his little brother was apparently hell bent on damaging himself further than he already had. He was in no condition to be swimming, especially not in an ocean which could be dangerous to those who did not know it well.

Thor waved one more time at his brother before reaching down to pick up the bundle of clothes Loki had left neatly stacked on the sand. He carefully brushed some sand from the knitted jumper on the top of the pile and kept watching his brother swimming towards him. He could not recall ever seeing Loki seriously swimming before. In their younger days they had often played in streams and hidden pools found after wandering through a dark forest for hours or hiking up a mountain so high that it was crowned by clouds. But they had never been large enough to properly swim in and they had primarily spent their time dunking each other under the water and diving for shiny stones. When he had been a lot younger, Loki had been very drawn to the silvery fish that would sometimes dart in the warm water, always far too quick to catch and had spent hours just watching them flit back and forth while Thor had tried to make the largest splash he possibly could by leaping into the water again and again.

When Loki got to the shallower water nearer the beach, he walked out of the water at least somewhat gracefully. He was wearing only his underthings and Thor was horrified to see the extent of his brother’s rapid weight loss laid bare. Now he was not shrouded in some much too large jumper Thor could see every rib and his hipbones jutted out far to sharply. All the muscle seemed to have melted from his limbs, leaving behind only bones and pale skin. And Thor also saw the injuries. Loki’s arms were covered in pinkish scars and still healing wounds. The same wounds also snaked up his legs, starting from his ankles and ending just above his knees. Several were dotted across his pale chest. Thor felt something inside him want to break, shatter into a thousand pieces and he fought with himself to keep his expression neutral. Loki had done more damage than he had thought possible in such a short amount of time. He had assumed he would limit himself to his arms but then Loki never did anything by halves, least of all self-destruction.

When Loki was close enough Thor wordlessly held out the bundle of clothes and tried to not stare at any of the angry marks on the insides of Loki’s bony wrists when he reached out to take them. His veins looked vulnerable, so close to the surface of his skin. Thor swallowed and tried unsuccessfully not to think of Loki putting a knife anywhere near his own flesh. Loki didn’t meet his eyes or say a word and instead pulled a small towel from somewhere in the middle of the bundle. He began to hastily dry his limbs, roughly and without any care for his still healing wounds. Once the drops of water no longer clung to his skin, he pulled the thick jumper over his head and clumsily pulled on the trousers. His feet he left bare, pushing his toes deep into the sand just as Thor had done only a few minutes before.

“I’m not angry Loki,” Thor said softly, wanting Loki to look at him, to say something to explain any of this.

When Loki still did not respond, did not even seem to have heard, Thor sighed.

“Do you swim here often?” he asked, genuinely curious. He had never before seen Loki when he had walked on the beach. Although he had never thought to look for anyone swimming, given that the water was freezing, and the Asgardian population were used to the far warmer climate found on that they had enjoyed on Asgard.

Loki hesitated, then shook his head.

“So why today?” Thor asked. “I thought we were going to have lunch together at the cottage.”

“I needed some distance,” Loki said, eyes fixed firmly on the distant horizon.

“From me?” Thor asked delicately.

“No,” Loki answered. “From myself.”

Thor turned to him cautiously. Loki’s hair was soaking wet and a thin strand was stuck to his temple.

“And did you find it?” he asked.

“I cannot escape something that lies beneath my own skin.”

“It certainly looks as though you have tried,” Thor said, more harshly than he had intended, gesturing towards Loki’s body and the cuts he knew lay concealed beneath his clothes.

Loki did not answer but Thor did not miss the way he hunched his shoulders up like a bird. The way he turned away slightly, pulled at his sleeves, as though wanting to hide himself as much as possible.

“Sorry,” Thor said, feeling clumsy, like a raging hurricane blowing through his brother’s problems and knocking them all out of order. Why could he not go at these things with more consideration? Why did he always have to push and push?

“I have to weaken it, Thor. I have to.”

He said it quietly, sounding so convinced and sane that Thor could almost believe that what he was saying made some sort of logical sense, could almost believe his brother had not fallen into deep and unrecognisable madness.

“Does that weaken it?”

“Sometimes.”

Loki suddenly sat down, folding his long limbs beneath him. Thor was surprised, having expected him to walk away, vanish with only a few sparks of bright green magic or punch him in the face. He had not been expecting Loki to sit down, to seemingly actually want to have a conversation with him.

“Wait here,” he said, turning and quickly striding back to where he had left his lunch, scarf and boots a few paces behind them. Perhaps now Loki would manage to eat something, he thought. He had been swimming. Surely he had managed to work up an appetite.

He sat himself down beside Loki and shook the sand from his food before offering it to Loki. He shook his head and hunched in on himself further. Water from his sodden hair was soaking into his jumper, darkening the wool around his shoulders and neck. 

“Perhaps at dinner this evening?” Thor suggested tentatively.

“Perhaps,” Loki responded, though Thor had the distinct impression he was only saying it to humour him.

He bit a chunk off the bread and waited. Despite his best efforts to remove it there was sand in it, he could feel it crunching between his teeth. He swallowed with difficulty and waited. If Loki wanted to speak then Thor had no intention of speaking over him again before he found the nerve to address whatever it was he wanted to address.

Loki let the silence between them sit for several long minutes. He had picked up a small stone and was turning it over and over in his hands. Thor noticed that he had chewed the skin around his fingernails bloody in places. His fingers looked too thin. Breakable. Like one wrong move would snap them as easily as twigs.

“I know you don’t understand it,” he said suddenly. His voice was carefully empty. As featureless as the smooth stone he was holding in his hand. Controlled. It sat oddly alongside his dishevelled appearance.

Loki had always enjoyed juxtaposition.

Thor nodded. “I do not,” he agreed, just as carefully.

“But I _must_ do this,” Loki said, turning and finally looking Thor in the eyes for the first time since he had waded out of the ocean. His green eyes were wide, beseeching, looking utterly alien in his too pale face. In them Thor read a silent begging for him to understand.

But he did not. He could not. He did not know how.

“But why, Loki? I do not understand what it is you are attempting to achieve.”

“Weaken the monster. I have to keep the monster as powerless as I am able.”

“But what monster, Loki?” Thor asked. “Who is this monster you speak of?”

“The Jötunn,” he said simply. As though Thor were a child too stupid to understand some very basic fact.

“But that is you, Loki. That is you, not some horrid monster that must be eliminated.”

“It is not me, Thor. That is what I am trying to tell you. It is a stranger who lives beneath my skin and it is consuming me from within.”

Thor stared at him in confusion. His fingers worried at the edges of the bread he was holding, causing crumbs to fall onto the sand by his feet.

“I am Loki,” Loki said as softly and calmly as a stream trickling easily over the stones worn smooth. He gestured to himself with a thin hand. “The monster is not Loki, it is something else that is separate from myself.”

“Brother I – “

“And it will never be a part of myself. I cannot let it. Therefore, I must keep it weakened so that it cannot consume me or take my place.”

Thor looked out onto the ocean. The tide was coming in and already the waves were breaking higher up on the beach than they had when Thor had first spotted Loki in the water. This madness of Loki’s ran deep and dark. And Thor did not know what to do to help. He felt as though he had leapt into a pool and found it to be far deeper than it had looked from the rocks.

“Please say something,” Loki pleaded. “ _Please_.”

“If I am honest, I do not know what to say.”

“Try.”

There was challenge there. Something lingering in the lines of Loki’s pale face, something simultaneously familiar and alien. A trace of the brother he had once thought to know better than anyone else.

“Why do you hate yourself so much that you would attempt to starve and cut out a part of yourself?”

“It is not a part of me,” Loki said. “And even if it were it would not be one that is worth keeping.”

“But what is so wrong with it?”

“It is Jötunn,” he said, as if that somehow explained everything.

“So you hate the Jötunn so much you cannot accept that that is what you, on some level, are?”

“The Jötunn are animals,” Loki spat, back straightening and eyes blazing. “They are uncivilised and savage beasts who cower in their icy caves on their desolate wasteland of a planet!”

“ _Loki!_ ”

Thor was shocked by the harshness of his brother’s words. By the burning hatred in them.

“Did you not say yourself you would slay them all, Thor, all those years ago? That you would slay all the monsters?”

Thor could remember it. He could remember a time when he would gladly have killed every Jötunn that dared to cross his path with little hesitation and even less remorse. But no longer. He had not expected those words to stay with Loki so, to grow such deep roots in his memory. It was not unexpected though. Loki always remembered everything, stored it up, bottled it, archived it somewhere within himself. Thor pushed his feet deeper into the sand and tried to think of what to say.

“I have told you before, brother, that what you are does not change what you are to me. I cannot offer you any more than that. I gazed into your red eyes and I saw not a monster but my family. I wish that you would see yourself the same way as I do.”

Loki made an exclamation that fell somewhere between disbelief and anger. He turned the stone in his hands faster and faster, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“You saw a monster and that monster tried to stab you through the heart with a blade of ice.”

“You were upset and not thinking Loki. I have already forgiven you. You are my brother, as you always have been and as you always will be.”

Loki suddenly threw the stone hard into the sand between them with a dull thud. He took a deep breathe and then exhaled slowly.

“The Jötunn are not even a people. They exist at the same level as animals, crawling in the dirt. And one does not refer to one’s dog, which is yanked around on its chain, as one’s brother. One does not look into the face of a demon and see something that is capable of even a sliver of humanity.” He almost spat the words, spiked disgust enveloping every syllable.

“Is that truly how you perceive yourself?” Thor asked softly. “As some sort of pet?”

“The monster is no better than an animal. A runt. Something which should have been put out of its misery years ago.”

“And what am I in this image of yours?” he asked. “Do I pull you around on a chain, Loki?”

“No.” Loki whispered, staring at the sand. “You do not.”

Loki was digging his nails into his palms. Thor could see the skin beginning to redden.

“I wish it gone,” Loki breathed, so quietly that Thor had to strain to hear him over the sounds of the waves and the wind.

Thor reached over and pulled his brother’s hands apart to stop him making even more marks on his already damaged flesh. To hear Loki speak so cut him deeply. And he could not stand to watch Loki harm himself further.

“But you cannot hurt the Jötunn without also hurting yourself,” Thor whispered.

“A sacrifice for the greater good,” he said quietly in response. “To see the monster gone I would pay any price.”

Thor looked down at Loki’s fingers. It was a little strange to think that beneath a layer of magic there lay the blue skin of a Jötnun. But the thought no longer bothered him. The Jötunn was as much Loki as the Aesir.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed chapter, various things got in the way and I was feeling a little uninspired. This chapter is a bit longer than the others though, which will hopefully make up for it being late. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos or reviewed!

After they had returned from the beach Loki had retreated to his room and closed the door behind him, a clear sign to Thor that he did not want to talk further or be disturbed in any way by anyone. Thor had accepted it. He was still mentally reeling from what Loki had admitted to him. He had been trying to explain, Thor could see that. He had been trying to let Thor in, to talk about the problem which had never exactly been a strong suit of the royal family of Asgard, and also not something which he and Loki had done a great deal of recently. He recognised that Loki was trying. But it did not lessen his concern one drop.

He was distracted the rest of the day, struggling to focus on anything other than turning Loki’s hateful words over and over in his mind like a stone in his hand. After a few hours of being unable to concentrate he withdrew to what had become the community centre/ main meeting point/ temporary throne room of New Asgard and made a rather fruitless start on the tall stack of documents that was teetering runsteadily on the table and waiting for his attention. The room was large and cavernous, the walls still bare and the floor empty of any carpets or rugs. The only furniture was the large table Thor was attmepting to work at and several chairs clustered haphazardly around it. It was chilly and uncomfortable and Thor knew that sooner or later something would need to be done to make it more welcoming. 

Loki’s words would not leave his thoughts.

_I have to weaken it…_

_The monster is not Loki, it is something else…_

_The Jötunn are animals…uncivilised, savage beasts who cower in their icy caves on their desolate wasteland of a planet…_

_A runt. Something which should have been put out of its misery years ago._

_I wish it gone._

He put down the still to be read through and signed document with a sigh. The words seemed to be dancing a waltz on the page, turning this way and that and Thor could not focus on them properly. He rubbed at his eyes, willing his mind awake and sharp but to no avail. Exhaustion and a preoccupied mind were not a combination that made reading tedious documents easy. He put the paper back down and left it on the big table.

Outside it was dark and the cold immediately bit at the exposed skin of his face and hands with needle sharp teeth. Thor shivered. He wanted to head back to the cottage where it was warm, but he did not know yet what to say to Loki. A plan was what he needed, something with steps he could follow that would lead to it all eventually getting better. Loki’s self-hatred was a bottomless pool: murky, poisonous and deep enough to drown in. Thor was also deeply aware that Loki could and would harm himself when things spiralled. The very last thing he wanted to do was get it wrong and cause his brother to react by turning on himself with a knife. But he couldn’t _not_ help, he could not give up or trust Loki to somehow cope with it on his own as he always tried to. Not this time.

He wandered along the road which, at least for now, was functioning as the main road of New Asgard. There had been talks of getting someone to come to put tarmac down, to make it easier for cars to drive through. But no one in New Asgard owned a car. Although the way some of the people spoke about them, he strongly suspected there would soon be several.

Thor exhaled heavily and his breath came out in a white cloud. Like a dragon, he thought to himself, and then felt ridiculous. He was far too old for that kind of thinking, he told himself. The cold was turning his fingers numb so he shoved them deep into his pockets to try to warm them a little. He did not think he would ever get used to the temperatures in Norway. He had always been a child of the summer, spending even the mild Asgardian winters dreaming of blue skies and sunshine. The slightest drop in temperature had had him digging out his warmer clothes. Loki had always loved the cold but Thor had never quite been able to develop any feelings of fondness for the colder seasons. And he could not see himself ever growing to enjoy the frigid temperatures they were currently experiencing. 

His right hand nudged something small and heavy and he pulled it from his pocket with a frown.

A mobile phone.

It had been a parting gift from Bruce, pressed into his hand before the man had headed to the airport to fly back to New York. Bruce had saved his number into it, or at least, he had told Thor that he had done so. Thor had not so much as looked at the small device since Bruce had left. A feeling of liquid guilt began rising from his stomach at the fact he had not even so much as checked in with Bruce, despite everything that they had went through together on Sakaar and after. He had not even thought to ask if he had arrived safely at his destination. All Bruce had told him was to call him if he had any problems. And to just keep in touch. Give him a call every now and then to tell him that things were working out. And then he had smiled at Thor, given him an unexpected hug and gotten into his taxi.

Suddenly he knew exactly who he should reach out to for help with Loki and everything that he was struggling with.

Thor recalled that Bruce was some sort of healer. And he had seven PhDs. Which meant he was one of the more intelligent people on Midgard and therefore maybe in a position to help him with Loki. Surely one of those PhDs would be of use with the problem at hand. After all, there were no alien spaceships involved this time.

Something about calling Bruce at such a late hour only to unload his problems on him seemed deeply wrong. It seemed like something his younger, far brasher self, who had not understood that friendships were about giving and taking in equal measure, would have done. And Thor was trying hard not to be that version of himself anymore.

But he was also desperate.

He managed to turn the phone on with only a little difficulty. Then he successfully located the little list of all the numbers saved into it. Thankfully finding Bruce’s number was not difficult, as there was only one number in the phone. Thor cautiously pressed the green button that looked a little like an old phone from one of the movies Tony had made him watch several years ago. Tony had insisted, claiming something about Thor needing to understand Midgardian culture if he was going to be properly part of the Avengers.

The phone immediately began making a loud ringing noise and Thor whipped around, making sure there was no one else walking around at this hour to see or hear him. The sound was horribly shrill. He began walking quickly in the direction of the docks. At this hour there was unlikely to be anyone there and this was a conversation he wanted privacy for. Thor clutched the buzzing and ringing phone tightly to his right ear with both hands, despite the fact he was pretty sure it was deafening him, and making sure not to trip over any of the stones dotted around the edges of the road. He got the impression that there had been some sort of disagreement about where exactly the road was because there were several stones strewn rather haphazardly all over the place. He gingerly stepped over a particularly large one and kept walking quickly. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should suggest that someone either put up or organise some sort of lighting for the streets. It was pitch black and it was only a matter of time before someone hurt themselves stumbling around in the darkness.

The phone was still ringing. Although screeching seemed to describe the noise more accurately. Or wailing.

“Come on, Bruce,” he whispered.

The docks were as dark as the rest of New Asgard, but Thor could make out the vague forms of several small boats bobbing like ducks in the water, and hear the slap of the small waves against stone. The salty air smelled like fish. He sat down on one of the large logs which had been dragged down to the docks earlier in the week with the intention of building a boathouse to store the fishing nets and various other items in. At present they were heaped in piles around the edges of the water, against various walls or in boats being stored out of the water. The log was slightly damp and Thor could feel the wetness soaking through his jeans, causing him to shiver again. He missed the Asgardian summers desperately.

The phone stopped ringing and a loud beep caused Thor to wrench it from his ear with an involuntary yelp and stare at it in alarm.

“Hi, you have managed to reach Dr. Bruce Banner. I must have missed your call but leave me a message and I’ll do my best to call you back as soon as I can,” said the phone with Bruce’s voice. Thor regarded it suspiciously.

“Bruce?” he whispered uncertainly. He gave the phone a little shake.

A piercing beep cut through the darkness again, causing Thor to start and almost drop the device in the mud by his feet, and a robotic female voice invited him to leave a message after the tone. Then the piercing sound rang over the docks for a third time.

Thor froze, then realised that it was his turn to speak now.

“Um, hello Bruce,” he said, feeling somewhat ridiculous and glancing around furtively to ensure no one was around the see him sitting alone in the dark speaking into a small machine that had just talked to him.

“I hope that you are well, and I am sorry for not trying to use this phone to call you before now. I have not had the time.”

He paused, unsure of how to continue. The air felt heavy and expectant. There was a storm coming, Thor thought absently. He moved his left foot to rest against the right and shuffled forward a little. 

“New Asgard is beginning to take shape now, and I have a house. Well, a cottage. It is very cosy and I am eternally grateful to the people of Norway for giving us this land.”

He paused again, then took a deep breath.

“You said I should call you if there were to be any problems. And I have a problem. Well, not just me. But there is a problem. It is my brother.”

It felt wrong, so painfully and piercingly wrong, to tell Loki’s problems to yet another person. Especially one who had treated with Loki with mistrust at best ever since the incident in New York with the Chitauri. Thor could feel the guilt rising like a flood, splashing and tearing at the base of his throat and threatening to cut off his air. But Thor did not know what else to do. He wanted someone to tell him how to help Loki fix this because he did not even know where to begin and Loki was getting worse by the day.

“Loki is…not well. He does not eat and he does not sleep. I do not know exactly how long things have been this way, but he is getting worse. I fear for him Bruce, and I know that you and him are not exactly friends and you have not always seen eye to eye and I know that he is probably the last person you would want to help. But I know you are a healer of some sort, which is why am I asking you.”

The glowing screen looked alien in the darkness. Thor looked out onto the inky water, which was slapping gently at the stone of the docks. Beside him a pile of fish nets shifted slightly and he stared at it closely before deciding that it must be due to the somewhat haphazard manner in which they had been stacked. He had to stop being so on edge, he told himself. He had to stop immediately assuming there were enemies hidden in every shadow and around every corner. This was Midgard. Not the Statesman, where they had been so blatantly vulnerable in the yawning emptiness of space that Thor considered it a miracle that they had it to Midgard without anyone attacking them.

He returned his attention to the call.

“I worry for Loki’s mind. He has been taken by some madness which I do not understand. He has spoken to me of a monster, which has some connection to his Jötunn form. He claims that it speaks to him and that he cannot eat or rest lest it gain strength. What concerns me most of all is that he is convinced that this monster is an entity separate from himself, and that it wishes to harm him. I have told him that this is not so but he is deeply convinced that what he claims is the truth. And he…he has taken to harming himself to weaken this monster.”

Thor paused again. It sounded worse now that the words were out in the frigid air, exposed and bare.

“I do not wish to be doing this or asking this of you, and I know Loki would likely rather I did not tell anyone either. But I do not know what to do and I am afraid, Bruce. Truly afraid. He tries to explain it to me but I cannot understand his thoughts for they are too twisted for me to follow. I am asking you as a friend, Bruce. I understand if you do not wish to aid Loki. I know there is a lot of history between you both. But I am asking you anyway.”

He sighed heavily. He seemed to be doing more of that these days than he ever had before. Odin had sighed a lot as well when he had still been alive. Maybe it was part of being king, maybe it was just being older and more burdened.

“I hope that I will be able to speak with you soon. Goodbye Bruce.”

Then he pressed the red button and the obnoxious beeping once again sounded over the docks. He clicked the little rectangular button on the side of the device and returned it carefully to his jacket pocket.

Not for the first time, he wished Frigga were still alive. Not only for himself, but for Loki.

The bond between Loki and Frigga had been one he had at times deeply envied. He had seen the way Loki came alive when she showed him new spells, gave him thick books on different avenues of magic he could explore or sat with him in the vast palace garden explaining the properties of each and every plant. Frigga had understood Loki in a way Odin never had. She had been the one to listen, to convince her far quieter and more reticent second son that those things could also be strengths and being strong in the way Odin and Thor were was not the only way to be. Frigga had helped Loki navigate his childhood difficulties, had showed him how to take his quiet power and sharpen it to something no one would laugh at ever again. And Loki had trusted her the way he had never trusted anyone else. Except maybe Thor, when they had been children and everything had been so much simpler. Before they had begun to drift, before the storm that destroyed their family one piece at a time had come crashing in. Frigga would have known what to say to Loki, had always been able to calm Loki’s storms and ease his worries when they threatened to crash over him like a raging tsunami over some unfortunate town. Frigga had seen Loki in a way no one else had ever seemed to and no one had since. Thor wished with all his heart she had not died that day all those years ago. The pain never quite seemed to fade. Like toothache, it could be ignored, perhaps even forgotten for an hour or two, but it never went away.

He pulled himself up and began making his way back towards the cottage, walking slowly and allowing his gaze to wander over the half-finished structures dotted around, looming out of the darkness when he came close. Soon they would be homes, places were people could live and recreate what had been lost. Soon things would no longer look quite as unfinished and empty as they did now.

Let it never be said that Asgardians are not resilient, he thought to himself proudly.

Then his thoughts returned once more to Loki, as he drew nearer and nearer to the house. Thor did not even know if Loki would be there or if he would be hiding himself away somewhere, as he had been prior to showing up in Thor’s living room. He wondered briefly if Loki had been sleeping at someone else’s house. But that seemed unlikely. Loki had no friends among the Asgardians and most had treated him somewhat warily aboard the Statesman. Loki had never found it easy to make friends, or shown much of a desire to so. Usually people who were friends with Thor also tolerated Loki as a part of their friendship with Thor. But he could not recall Loki ever having any real friends of his own. Unless it was just another part of himself that Loki had chosen to keep hidden, along with everything else he had concealed over the years. But it was clear that he had no friends in New Asgard except Thor. Heimdall perhaps, although the trust between the two of them had all but evaporated and given all that had transpired, Thor found it difficult to hold Heimdall’s wariness against him. Valkyrie did not consider Loki a friend, a necessary ally perhaps, but nothing more. And Loki had avoided her as much as he had the others. Although Loki had listened to Valkyrie that day on the beach and had decided to return to Thor only after their conversation. But Thor still did not think they were friends, at least not in the way he and Valkyrie were. And the people of Asgard had been far quicker to accept Valkyrie than they had to forgive Loki.

A few weeks after their arrival on Midgard, Valkyrie had been gifted one of the other first completed cottages, at the insistence of those who had built it as a thanks for her help in defeating Hela. Though she had not shown it openly, Thor had seen that the action had touched her.

And then she had promptly stolen several crates of various alcoholic drinks from the makeshift bar which had been opened near what would soon be the town centre. Thor had pretended not to see. She had been drinking less recently, possibly as a result of so much responsibility being thrown on her shoulders without so much as a warning. He hadn’t broached that subject with her since Sakaar, although he had meant to. The right moment had just never arrived.

He began the slight climb up to his cottage. Well, his and Loki’s cottage he supposed. Loki lived there now as well. At least at a basic, on paper level he did. Their cottage was set on one of several small hills dotted around the area in which New Asgard was being constructed. Thor had the feeling it had been an attempt of the Asgradians to make something at least distantly resembling the palace on Asgard, which had been situated as the highest point of the city. But he appreciated that it gave him a place to have some distance from everything. And it was quiet, which he was still getting used to after months of constant noise and bustle on the Statesman. 

There were no lights on in the cottage and the windows looked dark and foreboding. That didn’t have to mean anything, Thor told himself with fake optimism that did nothing to stop the overwhelming feeling of dread growing in his chest. It certainly didn’t have to mean anything terrible had happened. It was late, after all. It was possible Loki had simply fallen asleep, as he had the night before.

Thor cautiously pushed open the door. It creaked loudly, which did nothing to soothe Thor’s frayed nerves at all. The kitchen was completely deserted. As was the living room area. He tiptoed down the hallway and carefully pushed open the door to Loki’s room after knocking twice.

Empty. Dark as the sky outside.

The apple he had placed in Loki’s room earlier was still there, innocently sitting exactly where Thor had left it. Nothing looked any different. He checked the bathroom and his own room just in case but there was no sign of his brother in either.

Thor returned to the kitchen, checking the fridge and noticing that none of the food had gone. He wasn’t surprised exactly, but it worried him nonetheless. He sighed, turning awkwardly and somehow unsure of what he was supposed to do now. Before Loki moved in he had been so exhausted upon returning home that he had simply eaten whatever was closest before collapsing onto his bed and passing out until the next morning. But now he felt wide awake. In his thoughts Thor was relentlessly turning over everything Loki had said earlier, wondering what to make of his new swimming hobby and debating trying to call Bruce again. In the end he went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Then he went back into Loki’s room. Somehow, he wanted to find something of Loki’s there, a book, a cloak, anything really, just something that would suggest that he had the intention of staying.

He didn’t really believe Loki would just vanish. But then again, it was Loki. He had always hidden from things he found difficult. Frigga had spent much of their childhood coaxing Loki out of various small spaces in which he had hidden himself away for hours at a time.

Then he went to his own bed and fell into a sleep troubled by dreams of Jötunn and dark oceans with waves that pulled at his ankles, pulled him down into the depths until he could no longer see the surface above. And there was Loki, pale and thin and floating in the murky darkness hundreds of feet below. No matter how hard Thor tried he could not reach him and he could no longer see any bubbles of air passing Loki’s bloodless lips as he sunk further and further…

* * *

When Thor woke up the next morning he felt tired. More than tired. Exhausted. All the way down to his bones. As though he had not even slept. He opened his eyes slowly, painfully, shrinking back slightly under the assault of sunlight pouring in through the window. Everything was too bright and intrusive. He wanted nothing more than to pull the blanket over his head and try to catch a few more hours of sleep.

It was only when he propped himself up on his elbow and drew a heavy arm across his face that he noticed that the door to his room was open.

Thor was certain that he had closed it the night before.

More than just certain, he knew he had. He could recall the feel of the doorknob in his hand, how it had felt pleasantly cool to his warm and still reddened from the shower skin. The door had creaked and so had the floor. He had closed that door. Thor was sure of it.

He frowned at it for a few seconds, mentally going through the reasonable explanations for the open door but the anxiety was creeping like water into his lungs and his skin felt far too tight. Thor quietly pulled himself out of bed, every sense on alert. He reached stealthily under his bed for the dagger he kept there just in case (along with the one in his wardrobe and the one hidden beneath a floorboard on the far side of the room. And the one hidden in his nightstand drawer). Holding the weapon in his hand he carefully edged towards the open door, peering into the hallway and seeing no one. Loki’s door was open, but he recalled leaving it ajar the night before. The same with the bathroom door. His heart was thundering so loudly that he was sure it could be heard across the Nine Realms. Possibly even further. A slight sound came from the kitchen and Thor immediately turned his head, straining his ears to try to make out more. The sound of a footstep. Then another.

And then Thor rushed into the kitchen, face contorted and dagger held aloft, fully expecting to see someone creeping around in his kitchen and fully prepared to sink a knife in between the intruder’s ribs.

What he did not expect was for that someone to be his missing brother.

Especially not for Loki to be standing barefoot in his kitchen wearing his now usual attire of too large jumper and dark trousers, holding a mug of tea cradled in both hands. It was clear he had just made it, there was still steam rising from the hot liquid in the dark blue mug that had been a gift from Bruce along with the phone. He had managed to find a mug with the Avengers logo in a small second-hand shop in the Norwegian city of Oslo. Thor could remember Bruce telling him that Tony had had a batch made some time after the New York invasion.

Loki was staring at him with something that looked like concern mingled with confusion and Thor hastily lowered his dagger so it was no longer pointing directly at his sibling’s thin chest. He dropped it onto the sofa beside him, making a mental note to hide all the sharp objects in the house the next time he was home. There were far too many weapons hidden in various places in the cottage. Although it might not do much good, considering Loki could make ice daggers. Thor breathed slowly in and out a few times to try and slow his racing heart and still frantic thoughts. He looked around the room while he tried to get his thoughts back in order. The carpet looked like it had been straightened and the cushions on the sofa were sitting far more evenly placed than Thor remembered them being. He breathed through one more time before turning to face Loki.

“Good morning?” Loki asked hesitantly, staring at Thor like he was the one who had lost the plot. The concern was still etched on his face and Thor didn’t like that Loki was worrying about him when he was supposed to be the one holding it together.

“Sorry,” Thor said, embarrassed by his behaviour. “I woke to my door open and I got a little spooked.”

Except he had gotten a little spooked fairly often in the past few weeks. Even on the Statesman every unexplained sound had had him reaching for a weapon. And there was nothing to fear on Midgard, the solid and reasonable part of Thor knew that. But he couldn’t seem to leave the paranoia. It hung grimly onto him and Thor couldn’t see that changing ever again.

“I can see that,” Loki answered delicately, frowning at him one last time before holding out the blue mug. “I made you tea.”

Thor had no idea how to react. He had been expecting another few weeks of absence, of nail biting and all-consuming worry over what Loki might be doing. Maybe some lashing out, some more arguing. But this Loki seemed far too polite and eerily calm for that. It was like looking at a stranger who was wearing his brother’s face.

“Thank you,” he said slowly, taking a sip before lowering it again. Loki had only made one mug.

“Are you not drinking any?” he asked.

Loki gave him a strange look, then pursed his lips and shook his head. Slowly he moved the small pot he had used to heat the water over to the sink and put the box of tea bags back into the drawer next to the fridge where Thor usually kept them. Every motion was deliberate and yet far too careful. A performance.

“Loki, there is nothing in tea. It is merely flavoured hot water. Will you not drink a cup with me?” he asked carefully. Loki seemed calmer and Thor had no intention of distressing or riling him this morning.

Loki shook his head.

“I cannot,” he said.

“Then let us eat breakfast together,” Thor offered instead. “There are some Midgardian foods you can try; Valkyrie has made several trips to a town nearby to purchase a few things for us to sample.”

“No, thank you,” Loki said politely, not looking at him and staring down at the kitchen worktop instead. His hands were twitching at his sides, ragged thumbnails digging into his palms. “But I will sit with you if you wish for company.”

Thor nodded, placing the mug down on the nearby worktop before heading into the kitchen. He took the last of the bread from the box beside the hob and some cheese from the fridge. It was dark brown and strangely sweet. Valkyrie had informed him that it was something Norwegian and he had found the flavour to be interesting. Her interest in Midgardian foods had been wholly unexpected but he was relieved that at least someone was enthusiastic about Midgard being their new home.

Loki made his way slowly over to the table and folded himself carefully into one of the chairs. He did not lean back, shoulders tense and head held too high, like he had forgotten how to relax. Or was afraid to.

Thor joined him with his plate of bread and brown cheese, as well as his mug of tea. Then, after a moment, he got back up and filled a glass with cold water for Loki. He had drunk some water yesterday without any complaints or worry so Thor assumed he would not protest.

Thankfully he was right. Loki took several minuscule sips before sitting the glass carefully back down. Then he resumed his concentrated staring at the tabletop.

Thor took a bite of bread and cheese and regarded his brother thoughtfully as he chewed. The silence lay heavy between them, expectant and holding its breath.

“What is it that you plan to do today brother?” Thor asked Loki.

Loki did not look up.

“Is there something you wish me to do?” Loki asked softly. There was an edge in his words, something prickly and defensive.

“No, unless there is something that you want to do.”

“I do not know,” Loki said quietly and suddenly he sounded far too close to the uncertain child he had once been. The child who had hated being left alone, who had hidden his hands in his sleeves and spoken so quietly that it at times was unclear if he had even spoken at all.

“Would you be interested in helping with the construction of New Asgard in any way? I am sure with your magic things would move at a far greater pace.”

Loki frowned down at the tabletop, dark eyebrows knitting together.

“So there _is_ something you want me to do,” he stated.

Now it was Thor’s turn to frown.

“Only if that is something you would like to do.”

Loki suddenly looked up sharply, eyes travelling jerkily over Thor’s face.

“What if I do not wish to help?”

Thor recognised the challenge in his brother’s words but did not rise to it.

“Then I would not force you.”

Loki regarded him curiously with green eyes dull from lack of sleep. Thor tried to ignore the childish suspicion he sometimes had, that Loki could read minds and somehow see his very thoughts through the layers of bone and skin. He braced for a harsh retort, some kind of comment on how soft Thor had grown.

But Loki only resumed staring down at the tabletop.

Thor felt at loss. Every word with Loki felt dangerous, an overfilled glass teetering on an uneven surface. One jolt and it would cascade over everything and drown everyone in its path.

“My magic is weakened,” Loki said suddenly, leaning forward and hunching in on himself. “It has been more distant these past few days. When I reach for it, it is like trying to hold onto water. Sometimes I can barely hear it.”

“Has that happened before?” Thor asked worriedly. He did not know all that much about magic and what was normal and what was not. It had never interested him and now he wished with everything in him that it had. That he had read one or two of the books that had so captivated Loki for hours at a time. But he did not think a weakening was a good sign.

Loki nodded his head slowly and cautiously.

“When?” Thor asked.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Loki told the tabletop quietly.

“Is it because of this…weakening you are trying to do?” Thor asked carefully, unsure what he was asking and unsure if he even wanted to hear the answer.

Loki did not answer immediately. He began to trace the lines and knots in the wood of the table with his finger.

Then he sighed quietly.

“I suspect so, yes,” he said honestly. 

Thor nodded. It made sense that if Loki was physically weaker that his magic would also suffer. But that did not make it any less concerning. Loki was shrinking before his eyes and Thor did not even know how to help him drink so much as a single cup of tea.

“Will you not eat just a little, brother?” Thor asked as gently as he could. “I know yesterday it did not go so well but perhaps today will be better. You need only eat a little and I will not push you.”

Loki kept tracing his finger slowly over a whorl in the wood.

“Please, Loki,” Thor said again. Desperation tinged his voice like a drop of black ink in water and he hated it.

“If the monster grows stronger there will be no Loki left,” Loki said hollowly, finally raising his gaze from the tabletop. “To keep it weakened I must also weaken.”

He looked at Thor with such pleading, with such fear and pain that Thor did not know what to do or say in the face of his brother’s overwhelming and overflowing madness. He could practically see it drowning his brother even as he sat before him, pulling him down into the dark depths beyond the reach of Thor or anyone else. He did not think that this was a battle Loki could win. And he did not know how to help him see that without causing another argument.

Loki resumed his repetitive tracing of the lines on the table when Thor did not answer immediately.

Thor put the bread down, his appetite suddenly evaporated. He took another sip of the rapidly cooling tea. Swallowed. Watched his brother and wished with all his heart he could force some bread down his throat without him then hating him bitterly for it. Hating that he was seriously beginning to consider doing so anyway, even as everything in him recoiled from the thought of hurting Loki or their still fragile trust in any way.

He could live with Loki hating him if that meant that he was alive to do so.

Then he remembered something.

“Valkyrie said you spoke with her a few days ago,” he said.

Loki froze for a second then nodded. His finger stopped its repetitive path on the table.

“She told me that you apologised.”

Another nod from Loki. A nervous shuffling of feet beneath the table.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Why?”

A shrug, thin shoulders hunching up in a curiously birdlike manner. “I do not know.”

Thor regarded him carefully. Loki was lying. Loki always knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. He never acted without purpose.

“You told her you were apologising for not helping,” he said.

Loki looked at him. Searching, searching, always searching for pitfalls and concealed traps behind even the lightest and most innocent of questions or statements.

“What difference does it make?” he asked. “My magic is weakened and the glamour grows difficult to maintain. I imagine that the good people of Asgard would not take kindly to a Jötunn turning up in their midst.” His speech was careful, controlled, almost sounding like the Loki Thor remembered despite his spiky words. The brother from before the fall.

“If it is difficult for you then I do not mind if you let the glamour drop while you are within these walls. I have no problem with your Jötunn form,” Thor offered.

Loke inhaled sharply, air whistling over his teeth and giving him a look that told Thor he had missed the mark entirely with his blundering effort to help.

“I cannot!” he hissed, hand clenching to a fist on the table and shoulders jerking up again. “I cannot let it have me!”

Thor put down his mug. The beginnings of burning frustration were beginning to swell in his chest.

“You said yourself your magic weakens and maintaining the glamour strains it. I only offered so you might have a few hours respite!”

“Respite?!” Loki all but spat, face twisting, contorting and rendering his pale features unrecognisable. “There is no respite from the monster and I cannot allow it to gain even an inch. Every day it digs its claws deeper and its whispers grow shriller. To lower the glamour is to grant it an open door, an invitation to tread inside and take what it wills!”

He was trembling, pale hands jerking with odd little spasms. The earlier semblance of control had gone up in smoke and the uncontrollable emotions had returned to the surface with vengeance. Thor tried to stop himself from giving in to his own anger.

“But I will be here brother, I will be here with you. I will stop it should it grow too strong,” he insisted. He leaned forward on his elbows, needing Loki to see that he was serious, that he meant every word and that he need not seek out lies in his offers. 

Loki stood up suddenly, pushing the chair back abruptly and breathing hard. The legs scraped roughly on the floor. He was quivering like a live wire, Thor could practically see the frightened rage roaring through his veins.

“And then you will burn your hands, just like the last time you tried to stop it from growing too strong!” he hissed, eyes boring into Thor’s and for a second Thor was sure he saw a flash of red in his brother’s green irises, a flicker of blue over his pale cheeks. Then it was gone and it was just rage and terror which turned his brother’s face to something foreign and desperate.

“Brother, I am only trying to help!” he half shouted before taking a deep breath. Exhaling. Tried to force the dark red taking over his thoughts to recede. “I do not wish to argue with you. Tell me how I can help, _please_. Tell me how I can help you defeat this monster!”

Loki stared at him, still trembling with rage and barely contained panic. His eyes flickered to the door and Thor could recognise a strong desire to flee when he saw one, though seeing it on Loki still hurt. But he held Loki’s gaze, pleading with him silently to just tell him how to help. To confide in him, let him in as he once had centuries ago.

“You can’t,” Loki said quickly, the words sounding odd, too short and clipped, pitch rising unaturally on the final syllable.

Then he bolted for the door.

Only once it had slammed shut again with a loud crash did Thor allow his head to bang down onto the table. And groan loudly out of frustration, with Loki, with himself, with absolutely everything.

He wished they could have one conversation without it ending in shouting and Loki running from him and the whole thing crashing over them like a storm-swollen river breaking its banks.

And he really wished he knew what to do next.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm embaressed by how long this has taken, especially since I was managing a somewhat regular update schedule up until now. Unfortunately university is quite intense this year and I just haven't had the time. Hopefully I will be able to update a bit more regularly now but sadly I can't make any promises. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read this so far, left kudos or comments. Reading that people like this story warms my heart and makes me want to keep going.

Four whole days passed before Thor saw Loki again.

Four days of relentless, nail biting worrying, four days of checking the whole cottage for any sign, however small, of his brother every time he returned home. He wondered again and again where Loki was sleeping. He wondered if he was eating. Thor’s thoughts felt as though they were stuck on an ever tightening loop. Everything seemed to lead back to Loki.

Thor began to dream of opening the front door of the cottage and finding Loki’s cold and emaciated corpse lying on the living room floor.

He woke up with a racing heart and skin slick with sweat three nights in a row. If Loki died he would never forgive himself. If Loki died he would have failed. 

On the fourth day of being unable to focus his thoughts on anything other than his absent brother, Valkyrie took pity on him over lunch and sent him off to help the children with moving their stones to frame the road. It was something that was neither necessary nor asked for, but it was impossible to stop the children from continuing with the task they seemed to have collectively taken as their small part in the creation of New Asgard. Valkyrie had been intending to supervise a little to ensure that no more stones were stolen from houses which were in the process of being built, as several stones had mysteriously gone missing over the past week and the ones now sitting innocently beside the road looked suspiciously likes the ones being used in the constructions.

“You can’t think about anything else when supervising a bunch of kids,” Valkyrie had pointed out through a mouthful of bread and smoked fish. They had decided to eat outside to soak up the rare sunshine while it lasted and were sitting on the damp grass near the centre of the New Asgard. It was relatively busy, with people going about their usual routines all around them, but no one bothered the king and the last living Valkyrie as they sat eating together in the weak sunshine.

Valkyrie swallowed. Then she raised a strangely ornate looking glass bottle to her lips and chugged down what appeared to be at least half of the water. Then she continued, gesturing emphatically with the bottle while she did so. 

“Take an eye off them for even a second and they’re either at each other’s throats or ‘borrowing’ stones from Norns know where.”

The she had given him a firm push towards the noisy rabble of children gathered around twenty metres from where she and Thor were sitting. Thor had known better than to protest and, if he was being honest with himself, another day of trying and failing to concentrate on the various important documents in the ever-growing stack on the table in the town hall was deeply unappealing. And Thor had always enjoyed being around children and had a bit of a knack for getting on with them.

When Thor approached the group, half of them dropped into clumsy bows and he saw several elbows being hastily dug into the ribs of younger siblings to prompt them to follow suit. He hid his growing grin and stood before them with his arms crossed. Already his thoughts felt lighter, the loop loosening from around his throat. Perhaps some time away from his documents and official duties was all it would take for a few hours peace. He knew it wouldn't last but it was enough for now. 

“A little bird told me that several stones have gone missing from the building that will soon be your new school,” he said in a mock harsh tone, looking carefully at each upturned face. “Could someone perhaps tell me something about that?”

There was some whispering and shuffling of several pairs of small feet on the grass. Then a small girl stepped forward. She had windswept blonde hair and a spray of faint freckles dotted across her nose. 

“We think the road is more important than the school,” she said boldly and looked at him in a way that dared him to disagree. Her stance was confident, and Thor has always admired boldness no matter who displayed it.

He put his head to one side and pretended to weigh up her words carefully. She was wearing green boots that looked too big for her feet, he noticed. A quick glance at the small crowd of youngsters confirmed what he had been thinking. Most of their clothing looked handmade, sewn together quickly from blankets or from larger jumpers. They all had noses flushed red from the cold and hair tousled from the wind. No one had been prepared for the cold on Midgard. It didn’t help that most people had been forced to flee Asgard with little more than the clothes on their backs and whatever they had been able to grab before leaving behind their homes forever.

“Well,” Thor said and paused dramatically. “I must say I do not know if I can agree with that. As king I cannot condone thievery in any form.”

He paused theatrically, crossing his arms once more across his chest. He could feel his feet beginning to sink a little into the damp ground, the wet earth sucking at his feet. All the rain meant that the ground was always damp. Most of the time the very air felt wet. 

“But I think I agree,” he whispered loudly, pretending to look around to make sure no one walking around had overheard him.

“However!” he said loudly, over the giggles and whispers that had broken out at his confession. “I will have to ask that you do not take from any of the buildings anymore. There are plenty of stones on the beach which are perfectly suitable for what you are doing here.”

More whispering and giggling. Thor was suddenly struck by how few children there were and tried not to follow the thought any further. All those lives cut short, whole families wiped out in the space of a few minutes. How many had lost siblings, children, parents? He shook his head and tried his best to focus on the group in front of him. They had made it here. They had survived. They had to look toward the future.

Thor cupped a hand around his ear. “What was that?” he asked loudly. 

“Yes!” a small boy wearing a knitted yellow hat with a bobble yelled from the right side of the huddle. His agreement was echoed throughout the group.

“Right then,” Thor started, thoughtfully scanning the small gathering. “I’m going to split you into two groups.”

He pointed to the right side. “You will be responsible for walking to the beach and collecting stones.” When loud groans immediately broke out, he hastily added. “And after we have had a break to eat, the groups will be swapping tasks.”

Then he pointed to the other side of the huddle.

“You will be putting down the new stones brought by the others. Make sure to only put stones around the edges of the main path. And no more stones from the houses, please!”

As the groups began to disperse, chattering loudly and pulling at scarves and mittens, he quickly tapped the shoulders of the girl who had spoken earlier and a small boy who looked only a little younger. There was a likeness in their faces, the same nose and chin, that made him suspect that they were siblings. Once again he tried his best not to let his mind wander to his own sibling.

“Will you help me with moving all the stones that seem to have wandered away from their proper places?” he asked. The girl nodded eagerly.

“What are your names?” Thor asked warmly.

“My name is Astrid,” said the girl clearly. “And he is Bo. He’s my brother.”

Thor nodded. “My name is Thor,” he said seriously, gesturing to himself with one hand.

“I know!” Astrid giggled, shoving her mittened hands in front of her mouth. “You’re the king!”

“I am,” he said, putting an expression of faux haughtiness on his face, much to Astrid’s delight. Then he turned to Bo, who had not said a word yet. He had his green jacket sleeve firmly shoved in his mouth and was regarding Thor with large and wary blue eyes. His far too large red hat had fallen down to cover his eyebrows.

“Hello Bo,” he said, holding out his hand as was the Midgardian custom. The children had adopted it much faster than the adults in what was left of the Asgardians. It seemed to amuse them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Bo pushed his face into Astrid’s sleeve and half hid himself behind her.

“He’s shy,” Astrid explained seriously. She put an arm protectively around his shoulders and tried to pull the hat up enough that it did not conceal half of his face.

“But you’re not?” Thor asked her.

“No,” Astrid grinned widely, showing gaps where the milk teeth had fallen out.

“Excellent.” Thor grinned brightly back at her. Then he crouched down so he has on eye level with Bo. He could only see half of his face as the other side was hidden in his sister’s sleeve. His eyes were strikingly blue, clear and icy as the waters of the streams on Asgard.

“Don’t worry Bo,” he told the little boy softly. “My brother was shy too.”

The thought of Loki sent a fresh wave of worry flooding through him, but he pushed it back as best he could and began to walk down to the worst of the randomly placed stones with Astrid and Bo in tow. Sensing eyes on him he turned and saw Valkyrie waving at him from on top of the wooden beams that formed the foundation for what would become the roof of the new school. The breeze was pulling at her dark hair and whipping it in her eyes and he could practically hear the curses flying from her mouth.

He waved back as enthusiastically as he could.

Then he followed Astrid and Bo. In the distance the sun sparkled on the wide and endless seeming ocean and it looked almost like a mirror.

* * *

It was only when Thor arrived back at the cottage in the shadowy dark of the evening that he realised he had not thought of his missing brother in several hours. After spending an enjoyable time with Astrid, Bo and the other children moving the stones, he had shared a spontaneous dinner with Valkyrie. They were both deeply mediocre cooks at best but when they had combined their mediocrity something that had at least been edible had been the outcome. And there had been no burned down kitchens or blackened vegtables, so they had counted it as a success. Near the end of the meal, Valkyrie had told him she had not drunk anything alcoholic yet that day and intended to keep going. Thor had warned her it wouldn’t be much fun, to which she had responded that she had no plans to stop drinking but she wanted to drink less than she was.

It was a start.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from telling her he was unimaginably proud and grinning until she had told him to stop being sappy or she would throw something sharp at him.

The harsh realisation he hadn’t thought about Loki still hurt like ice on bare skin and it melted the joy and pride straight from his mind. Thor could feel the grey heaviness settling once more around his thoughts like an unwanted cloak, dark and cloudy, gleefully sapping away any happiness he had left.

He walked robotically to Loki’s room.

Loki wasn’t there. He also wasn’t in the bathroom or Thor’s room. The rooms were deathly quiet, and the silence felt like boulders of blame being heaped onto his lungs until his chest felt far too tight.

Loki was still gone.

Thor collapsed onto the sofa in the living room and examined the dark room listlessly. Briefly, he contemplated lighting a fire but was unable to summon the energy to do so. It was cold without a fire in the evenings, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. Sleeping on the sofa had never been more appealing.

Just as Thor had begun to drift off a little, a thought suddenly entered his mind and he sat up immediately and rubbed at his face.

The unsuccessful call. Bruce. He had yet to check for an answer from his unsuccessful attempt to call Bruce.

He found the phone after several minutes of frantic and frustrated searching. How it had fallen behind his bed he didn't know. Thor clicked the little button that turned it on and was greeted by a flashing light and a symbol that indicated that the phone no longer had enough power left to function. Bruce had told him that when he saw that he had to attach it to the charger. After hunting through several unorganised drawers in the dark living room, Thor found the white cable and strange plug device, which he stuck into the matching slot in the wall. The phone made a contented sounding beeping noise. Thor settled down on the cold floor and searched for the call section.

He had one missed call from “Bruce”.

And it was from yesterday.

After some more careful tapping of the screen, Thor saw he had a voicemail. Also from “Bruce”.

He clicked on it.

Silence.

Then there was a piercing beep and the phone was once again speaking to him with Bruce’s voice.

“Hey, Thor, sorry I missed your call. I’ve been pretty busy these past few weeks, apparently leaving your life out of nowhere for several years leaves it a bit of the mess and it’s been a challenge sorting it out. I may or may not have been declared dead. But you don’t want to hear about that. I’m glad to here that you’re making progress with building New Asgard though.”

It was strange to hear Bruce's voice again. He sounded stressed, Thor noted. Tried to ignore the creeping guilt over even calling him in the first place. A part of him had been regretting the call ever since he had made it.

“Right, I’m going to go through what you told me systematically because there was quite a lot there. I’ve made a list and I’m just going to start at the top and work my way down. Firstly, I’m really sorry that Loki is struggling. I don’t like him personally, as you know, but I know he means a lot to you and I would not wish what you described on anyone. I also don’t really know Loki that well, so if I’m being honest I can’t really give you much because I don’t know how he usually behaves when he’s not trying to take over various planets. It sounds like he’s hallucinating, except that’s made more complicated by him actually having two different forms. But his being convinced his frost giant form will somehow take over doesn’t sound normal to me. This desire for him to make it weak also strikes me as odd. Does he show awareness that to do also hurts his other form? What is also a possible is this is tied to his inability to accept what he is and maybe also some issues with internalised racism. The fact he is trying to talk about whatever is going on with him with you is good. It suggests that on some level he is aware that he has a problem and that’s a good place to start from.”

There was a pause and Thor could hear Bruce sighing quietly. Then he continued.

“The self harm is obviously distressing and I can understand that it worries you. The first thing I would suggest is removing all the sharp objects from your house. Although he seems like the kind of person who always has knives on him somewhere. But better safe than sorry. You might want to figure out if he’s actively planning some sort of attempt on his life.”

There was another pause and Thor could make out the rustling of pages and the creaking of a chair. He didn't think Loki wanted to end his life. At least he hoped not from the depths of his being because he knew far too well that if Loki had decided that staying alive was no longer something he wanted, Thor was powerless to stop him. Especially now, when Loki spent more time away from Thor than with him. But now it had been suggested, Thor could not stop the thought blackening and growing thick roots into his mind. A new worry to add weight to his fears about Loki. The worst part was, it wasn't as though suicide would be a wholly new and unexpected thing with Loki. He had always been drawn to things that destroyed him and letting go of Gungnir all those years ago had definitely not been an accident. But not now. He wouldn't now, not after everything.

“With the eating and sleeping problems all I can say is keep trying. Maybe leave food out for him so he knows it’s available to him. Maybe he won’t eat in front of you, maybe he’ll only eat very specific things. Sleeping I don’t know but he will doze off from time to time. At least with humans, we can’t stay awake for too long so even if all he’s doing is occasionally nodding off, it’s better than nothing. Is it nightmares he’s worried about? Because if so that makes it all a bit more difficult.”

The chair creaked again and Thor imagined Bruce sitting at a desk, leaning back and fiddling with a pen. It was probably late at night where he was.

“I hope that was helpful Thor, I’m not a psychiatrist, that’s like a mind healer if you don’t know the term, so this really isn’t an area I have much experience in. Especially not with non-humans. I hope he gets a bit better. It sounds like he’s suffering and that’s a really hard thing to see a loved one do. Feel free to call back, even if you only have more questions. Or just to talk, it would be nice to hear from you again.”

Another piercing beep announced the end of the message. Thor stared down at the phone blankly and carefully turned what Bruce had said over in his head. Some of the advice he had already tried. He had left food for Loki somewhere he could eat it in privacy, should he want to. The small red apple he had left in Loki’s room, which was still untouched.

Thor placed the phone carefully down beside him and pressed the heels of his cold hands against his eyes. He felt suddenly even more exhausted. Outside the rain splattered onto the houses and paths laboriously made by his people’s hands, turning them to barely identifiable shadows in the growing gloom. It would be another night without any chance of seeing the stars, their fires concealed by the clouds which never seemed to truly leave. There was a high chance his poor mood was to blame, he thought guiltily. The weather had always been in tune with his emotions but controlling it was difficult and he had not had the energy or patience for it since they had arrived on Midgard.

Maybe he should hide the knives.

Bruce had suggested it as well, which reinforced what he had been thinking would be a good idea. But Loki would notice because Loki always noticed everything, and Thor hated to give him the impression that he had so little faith in him. Doing so was probably futile, Thor thought dejectedly. The dark grey feeling of helplessness began to creep back up, dark water rising to his calves and getting deeper by the minute. Loki was the one who pulled a seemingly endless supply of daggers from Norns knew where. Loki was the one who made blades of ice. Loki would not be deterred by him hiding a few kitchen knives. And Thor did not even know where to hide them where Loki would not find them. Loki could read him like a book. Most of the time it almost seemed as though he knew what Thor would do before Thor had even thought about it. Loki was not so easy to read and even as children Loki had sometimes been a stranger with unforgiving eyes and a blank face that betrayed nothing of what was going on behind them.

He rose and made his way slowly to the kitchen and began to methodically take out the small metal utensils, stacking them in a messy heap on the worktop. Then Thor removed the concealed daggers from his room and added them to the pile, even though it pained him to leave himself so defenceless. They looked so small and flimsy, gleaming innocently in the dim light. He suddenly pictured them slicing through his brother’s pale skin and shuddered. The shadows in the room seemed to swell and extend, distorting the familiar shapes of the chairs and tables into foreign corners and edges. 

Thor gathered the knives in his arms, careful not to cut himself on the blades in the process.

He knew the perfect place to hide them.

* * *

Thor trudged through the rain along the muddy path that led out of New Asgard. The torrential rain had soaked through his clothes within seconds and they clung to his skin, as though afraid to let go, like children afraid of the dark and the monsters it concealed. With every step the sodden fabric felt heavier, a weight dragging him down into the mud.

When the town had disappeared into the gloom behind him he sped up his pace, no longer caring about being quiet in the way he had while walking through the town centre. Explaining why he was wandering around late at night in the rain with an armful of knives would have been a difficult task.

The cliff lay before him and beyond it the emptiness seemed as dark and infinite as the space they had travelled through to reach Midgard.

Thor made his way slowly and tentatively to the edge. To his right he could just make out the gravelly curve of the beach, only barely visible through the relentless rain. Thor shook his head as the rain stung his eyes, icy water flying from his still too short strands of hair. The very air seemed to be wet, an ocean of a different kind that made the oxygen in his lungs feel soaking wet. Thor walked as close to the edge as he dared. Below him, far far below, the frigid water raged. Immense waves slapped angrily at the stone, sending up salty spray and swirling bursts of white foam. It looked alive, a monster baying loudly for its next meal. To fall in from here would mean certain death. The waves would take hold with powerful hands, slam helpless bodies hard into the unforgiving rocks before throwing it back to the raging water to rip apart.

Thor shivered at the thought. The cold was creeping under his skin and freezing his bones. 

The bundle of knives in his arms were becoming slippery from the rain and his fingers were growing number by the second. Beneath his feet the ground was soft, the mud already sucking ravenously at his boots as though it were trying to pull him all the way down to the centre of the earth and bury him there. The raindrops ran down his face, dripping from his chin, nose and eyebrows.

Without any semblance of ceremony, Thor dropped the armful of knives into the water below. For what felt like an eternity they fell, turning over and over until Thor could no longer see them. Then the waves suddenly roared, swallowing the offering whole and pounding harder on the rocks that stood dark as the sky above. It reminded him of applause, loud noises thundering through halls filled to the brim. But there was no one here to witness it but him. Thor took a few shaky steps back, feeling both dizzyingly sick and relieved. He resisted the urge to just collapse onto his knees in the mud and rest, at least until the lightness in his head receded. The dark sky above seemed claustrophobically close and when he stared out over the water at it he could feel some of the weight leaving his shoulders. There would be no retrieving them. Not now that the ocean had claimed them as its own.

He turned his back on the raging sea and made his way slowly back through the rain to the cottage.

* * *

The next morning Loki returned to the cottage.

At least, he had returned at some point in the night, though he was gone again when Thor awoke to a bleak grey sky and the distant screeches of a lone gull. The only signs of Loki’s presence were the wet green towels hanging in the bathroom and the fact that the door to his room had been left ajar. The room itself appeared at first glance to be undisturbed but when Thor looked more closely at the bedside table he saw, with a jolt of surprised hope, that there was a small silvery shell sitting on top of the book. Thor had not put it there. Which meant that Loki had.

Thor saw him briefly later that day, he thought, a flash of dark hair and pale skin swimming in the dull grey ocean, but when he blinked there was nothing there. Perhaps it had only been a seal. 

* * *

Two days after the appearance of the shell, Thor finally saw Loki in person.

He found Loki in the living room with his head resting on his arms at the table. He had dozed off, it would seem, just as Bruce had said he would. His stringy dark hair concealed his face and Thor was careful to set about making his breakfast in as quiet a manner as he possibly could. Every creak of the floor or thud of cupboard doors closing had him peering anxiously over his shoulder at Loki’s sleeping form, terrified that he had woken him. But somehow Thor managed to make his breakfast without Loki so much as stirring. He ate leaning against the kitchen worktop, watching Loki carefully.

He could see Loki’s shoulder blades stabbing like knives through his jumper.

Thor was just placing his plate carefully in the sink when he heard a sound behind him. He instantly dropped the plate with a clatter, the fork jumping off the porcelain as though offended and he wheeled around with his heart stuck in his throat. Thor’s right hand itched for a weapon and he suddenly wished that he hadn’t dropped them all in the dark waves the night before.

He found himself face to face with a Jötunn.

Thor’s surprise must have shown clearly on his face because Loki’s red eyes widened in a way that in any other context would have been comical. Loki stared jerkily down at his blue hand, turning it over as though he could not recognise the appendage. His face twisted into something fearful, raw and open and he immediately backed away from Thor, holding his hands awkwardly away from him. 

“Loki-“ Thor began uncertainly, making a few hesitant steps towards his brother but Loki cut him off sharply.

“Quiet!”

His face was screwed up in tense concentration and a few seconds later the blue skin and glittering red eyes receded, giving way to familiar pale skin and dark eyebrows. Loki staggered and Thor immediately rushed forward to help him but Loki shook his head, teeth gritted and face contorted with pain.

It had hurt him to replace the glamour, Thor noted worriedly. His magic was so far depleted that even the simple replacement of a glamour was too much for him.

Loki kept a thin hand pressed against the wall, breathing harshly until he was able to regain his balance. But even then he swayed alarmingly. He looked drawn and tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks or even months. Naps were not helping. Loki needed to rest, properly. And soon.

“I should not have allowed myself to lose my grip,” Loki breathed shakily. His forehead gleamed with sweat and Thor suspected he was barely holding himself in the realm of consciousness. “Now it can emerge without my noticing.”

“Brother, can you not see how weak you have grown?” Thor asked horrified. Loki was disappearing. There was less of him every time Thor saw him, and not just physically. There was so little in this shaky, paranoid creature that Thor recognised as belonging to his younger brother.

“Weak yes, but not enough. Not yet.”

“Loki, have you grown so blind that you cannot see that you are dying?” Thor asked desperately, hands hanging uselessly at his sides. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make Loki see just how concerning everything was. He didn’t know how to make Loki just listen. “Before this madness a small spell such as a glamour would not have exhausted you so!”

Loki did not give him an answer, instead staggering to the sofa several paces away and half-falling, half-sitting down on it with a sharp exhalation. Thor forced himself to stay standing where he was, watching his brother’s thin chest rise and fall with shallow breathes. Every breath looked like it could be his last. 

The kitchen suddenly seemed darker and less cosy than it had seemed just moments before.

“I noticed that you hid the knives from the kitchen somewhere I will not find,” Loki said quietly. His voice sounded far too controlled and calm. As empty as the sky outside.

So he had noticed. Of course he had. Loki noticed everything, even when he was nearer death than life.

“Did you honestly think that I would leave them here, within your reach, when I know exactly what you would do with them?” Thor asked, sitting himself carefully down on the table with his legs dangling. He fought the urge to swing them back and forth, settling instead for tapping his fingers on the smooth wood. Sitting still was hard for him at the best of times and the concern racing through his veins like lightening did little to help that.

“It has never been in your nature to leave anything alone.”

“Loki I am worried for you!”

“Yet your actions are futile,” Loki said, as though he had not heard him, as though Thor was not even in the room. “The monster’s claws are sharp as knives and it creates blades of ice from nothing.”

“I am aware of this,” Thor said softly, fingers drumming faster and faster on the tabletop. “But I do not know what else I can do.”

Loki only hummed in response.

His eyes were barely open. The barest sliver of green was visible and Thor hoped with all he was that Loki would just fall asleep again. But as he looked closer something about Loki’s face looked different. Something didn’t look right. Something about the glamour looked off. Sudden icy panic jolted through Thor’s lungs.

Loki’s face did not look quite right.

His eyelids looked translucent, thin as book pages, and his pale skin was grey and smudgy. His hair was black as ever but it looked strangely insubstantial, like smoke from an out of control fire. Loki looked ghost-like in a way that was different to his now typical sickly appearance, as though one puff of air would cause him to disappear in a swirl of ashes and charcoal.

Thor felt frozen in place. Like a statue he sat on the table, not daring to move even a muscle and unable to take his eyes from Loki’s wrong looking face. His fingers had ceased their drumming on the table in favour of curling painfully around the edges, turning them white and bloodless. He did not dare to point it out, not knowing what Loki would do if he were to notice. The moment stretched ever longer, looping and winding lazy circles around Thor’s panic as he watched his brother’s wrong looking face twitch slightly.

“Will you eat something, brother?” he choked out instead, trying to keep the fear from his voice and struggling to stop it from shaking. His throat felt like it was closing, trapped in some invisible rope. Was it even Loki sitting there on the couch, he wondered wildly, or was this some unknown creature masquerading as Loki?

Loki shook his head vehemently and the too grey skin on the left side of his face suddenly seemed to start melting. Thor watched in horrified and numb fascination as the skin poured in smoky waves downwards. It was as though he were watching a candle melting but this was far faster. The left side of Loki’s face was blue, the Jötunn features looking solid beside the wrongness of his Aesir glamour that was peeling off in front of Thor’s disbelieving eyes. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t blink or pull his numb gaze from the layers of skin falling from his brother.

Then Loki’s shadowed eyes opened and glanced curiously at Thor, who could not wipe the shocked alarm from his face fast enough. Loki instantly jerked upright, a clawed hand from which pale Aesir skin was rapidly melting scrabbling at his face and then he howled. Thor had never heard such a haunted sound and it was enough to throw him back into what was happening. He leapt up from the table and frantically pulled Loki’s fragmenting hand from his face, the cold skin burning his hands again but he barely even noticed it.

But Loki pushed him off with more strength than his thin form suggested he still had, more and more of the glamour melting from his Jötunn skin like hot wax. He kept pulling at his half Aesir, half Jötunn face with his claws, black blood dribbling down from his fingers onto the floor and his legs, running down his wrists in streams growing wider by the second. And then Loki started screaming in a way that was more animal than human, collapsing heavily to his knees with a thud that seemed to echo impossibly loudly around the room and Thor watched part of the glamour return to cover Loki’s right hand before it once again fell away and he then couldn’t watch any longer. He threw himself down before Loki, wrenching his blue hands away from his face, terrified that Loki would claw his own eyes out in his blind panic. Loki kept pushing him away, pulling his wrists in towards his chest, eyes wild as he tried desperately to pull the glamour around him once more. Thor’s hands ached but it felt as though it was happening to someone else, as though this was a nightmare and he was still frozen and sitting on the table, watching it all unfold and wondering what nightmare he had wandered into.

“Loki!” Thor shouted, gritting his teeth in pain as Loki scrabbled at the back of his hand in an attempt to get Thor to release him. “Stop!”

“NO!” Loki shrieked. “No, no _no_!”

He was completely and utterly gone, the scraps of waxy glamor almost completely melted from his skin.

“It has won!” Loki wailed, voice cracking and breaking like glass with every fractured word as the fear began to close his throat. “It has won, it will never leave again!”

Though he fought desperately, Thor was still stronger and he managed to pull Loki’s spasming hands away from his face, ignoring the way the clawed fingers dug desperately into his ice-burned skin. The black blood mingled with his own, pools of red and black staining the floorboards and their clothes. Thor ignored the way the skin on his hands burned, ice cold and hot as rabid flames at the same time. It did not matter. Nothing mattered but calming Loki down.

“It has not, Loki, you are merely too weak to maintain the glamour any longer!”

“Loki is _gone_!”

Loki was utterly inconsolable. His red eyes shone like shattered rubies with fearful tears and he looked so utterly lost and scared that Thor’s heart ached for him.

“He is not gone,” Thor said desperately. “My brother still sits before me.”

“I am not your brother!” Loki roared, wrenching his bloody hands free from Thor’s and pushing himself to his feet and away from Thor. Anger gave him speed and he managed to evade Thor’s desperate grab for his arm and lunge for the door. He fled through it and slammed it shut behind him loud enough that the sound echoed around Thor’s skull.

When Thor wrenched open the door to follow Loki he was already gone.

And he was left alone with blood dripping from his hands to join the substantial puddle drying on the floor.


End file.
